


The day after (and the day after that)

by lostintheverse



Series: The Verse of Ari & Dante [2]
Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: Amusement Parks, Baby Joaquin, Beach Holidays, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Camping, Christmas, Eskimo Kisses, Ferris Wheels, Fist Fight, Fluff, High School, M/M, Making Out, Mild Sexual Content, New York City, Oral Sex, POV Aristotle "Ari" Mendoza, POV Cecilia, POV Dante Quintana, POV Gina Navarro, POV Sam Quintana, Romantic Soulmates, Truth or Dare, substantive fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2020-06-08 13:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 109,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostintheverse/pseuds/lostintheverse
Summary: Dante's late-night journal entries detail his first days as Ari's boyfriend. This is a sequel to "once you discover the secrets of the universe, the universe looks different." That one took place the day after the ending of the book, and this begins the day after that.





	1. the next morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yucatanmafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatanmafia/gifts).



> So at the end of my other AADDTSOTU fic, I said I was writing a companion piece that so far is in Ari's POV and that's TRUE. But I missed writing my Dante journal entries, so now this is happening.
> 
> Thanks to [FineArtandFairyTales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FineArtandFairyTales/pseuds/FineArtandFairyTales) for the "substantive fluff" tag. Best description I could hope for :)

Consciousness crept in slowly. There were several minutes of drifting in this warm half-sleep, feeling more comfortable and contented than I ever did, but not analyzing it at all. I love thinking, and I’d never want to be less of a thinker than I am, but I will say that the rare moments when I’m just _experiencing,_ and not thinking at all, are a blissful treat. Kissing Ari is like that, and so was the way I woke up. It wasn’t until Ari shifted his arm, pulling me closer in his sleep, that I came to enough to realize that he was in my bed, draped around me, sharing my pillow, his nose resting lightly against my cheek. I felt his slow, light exhales, there, and then I just laid still and tried to feel each point of contact between us, one by one.

His nose on my cheek, like I said. The arm he had tightened around me was heavy across my belly. I was on my back and he was on his side, and he had his leg bent and thrown over mine, so his knee rested between my thighs and his foot was on top of my shin. His bare chest was warm and solid against my upper arm, and I realized my hand was pressed like a flower in a book between my ribs and his stomach (which was flat as a board, even in sleep - God, that guy is ripped). I wiggled my fingers experimentally against his stomach and he jerked a little, just like he had in the truck last night when I kissed his neck.

So Ari Mendoza was ticklish. I never knew.

I wondered if anyone did, in the whole world, other than him and me. 

The thought filled me with so much joy I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I felt like I was nothing but joy and love. Like if I moved at all it would just spill out of me, overflow into everything. I’d never been so happy in my life.

It was still early; the sun had the room glowing all pink and gold. I must have only slept for a couple of hours, since I’d sat up so late writing down all the details from my miraculous first day as Ari’s boyfriend, but I felt fully rested. I watched the dust in the air for a moment, remembering doing the same thing yesterday morning right before I clambered out of bed in a near-panic to go see whether or not Ari was going to shut down or stay open to me. The memory made me smile, and suddenly I needed to touch him. I turned my face towards his so that our noses rested against each other and lifted the hand that wasn’t trapped between us to brush his hair off his forehead. Just like yesterday, his eyes fluttered open and he smiled.

“God, I love waking up to your face,” he said sleepily. 

“You said that yesterday,” I said. 

“Mmm-mmm,” he disagreed. He put his fingertips on my cheek, trailed them along my cheekbone so gently. He traced the curve of my ear. “Yesterday I said I like waking up with you in my arms. Which is also true.” 

“I like waking up to you saying sweet things to me,” I whispered, and he smiled again. 

“Hmm. Guess this should become a ritual, then.” 

“You said that yesterday, too.”

“Mmm-mmm.”

“Yes, you did.”

At that, he rolled onto his back, laughing loudly. “I love how you argue with me first thing in the morning,” he said.

“How is this arguing? I’m making observations,” I countered, my grin huge. 

“You’re making faulty observations, forcing me to correct you.” 

“Is it just me, or have we switched roles all of a sudden?”  
  
He laughed so hard at that. I did, too. 

“What was faulty about the second one?” I eventually asked. 

“Yesterday I said we should make it the norm. Today I said ritual.” His eyes were dancing.

I shoved him. “I never knew you had such a thing for semantics,” I said, and then we were both laughing again. He pulled me closer to him and kissed my nose.

“I think I just like playing with you,” he murmured, touching my face again.

“Where were you keeping all this?” I asked him, running a finger over his lips.

“Keeping what?” he asked, and kissed my fingertip.

“You were always, you know. Sullen. And kinda angry, and kinda sad.”

He nodded. “Yup.”

“So where were you keeping this version of you? The teasing, and the flirting, and the affection…”

“I wasn’t keeping it anywhere, Dante. It didn’t exist.” His wrapped his arms all the way around me and squeezed them so that I was pulled tight up against him. “You made this,” he whispered, and he kissed me, softly at first, then more deeply. He rolled on top of me and gripped my hips. I moved my hands to his rear and he didn’t stop me; quite the contrary. He pressed tighter against me, making me gasp, and then he bit my bottom lip with his teeth. Thank goodness my moan was quiet, because suddenly we both froze because someone was knocking lightly on my door. I practically threw Ari off of me, just as my mother opened the door. Ari nearly tumbled onto the floor, but managed to catch himself and jerk the sheet up over him. 

“Morning, Dante. Ari! I thought I heard you in here.” She stood there, taking in the scene - Ari in my bed, clutching the sheet to his stomach, me on my side trying my best to hide my lower half and its quickly fading erection behind him. I cleared my throat involuntarily, and then almost laughed because of how classically corny it sounded. 

If my mother suspected anything, or felt any surprise at Ari and I being shirtless and in bed together, she didn’t show it. She just smiled at us. 

“I just wanted to say I’m heading out for the day. I’m helping with the yard sale at church, and then I’m having lunch with your mother, Ari.”

He nodded jerkily. I knew he was too flustered to speak, so I did it for him.

“That sounds fun. Thanks for letting us know! We’ll see you later, I guess.”

She smiled again. “Yep. See you boys later.”

She left the door cracked when she left. Ari turned slowly around to stare at me with saucer-eyes. 

“Did she do that on purpose?” he asked. His mortified expression made me laugh. 

“I honestly don’t know. I’ll ask her later, and suggest she pick up some tips from your mom, and talk through the door instead of barging in.”

His eyes grew even wider, which seemed impossible. He was fucking adorable. “Don’t do that!” 

I laughed. I was _totally_ going to do that. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Okay, new rule.”

“Rules!?” I cried, my voice pitching high with dismay. His eyes popped open and his face cracked into a smile.

“I _really_ love your voice, Dante. Fine, no rules. But...a plan, maybe?”

God, that guy can make me laugh. I sat up and scooted closer to him, taking the hand that was clutching the sheet and twining my fingers with his.

“I might agree to that, if it’s a good plan.” He scowled at me. “Don’t get discouraged, Ari. I liked your other plan. The three-part one.” His three-part plan consisted of being the best boyfriend in the universe, telling me everything he’s thinking any time I ask, and being physical with me. 

“Like” is the understatement of the year. I fucking _love_ his three-part plan. I want to write songs about it.

He rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Let’s plan to not...you know.” He took a breath. “Get too sexual, when any of our parents are around.”

I fell over into the bed, laughing. “Fair enough,” I agreed. “I’m really impressed that you actually used the word ‘sexual,’ by the way. You’re really coming along.” 

He punched my shoulder and stood up. “Don’t even start,” he said, hunting on the floor for his shirt. He was grinning ear to ear. 

“We can still kiss, though, right? Even if they’re home?” I asked him. 

He answered by tackling me onto the bed and kissing me senseless. 

When Ari and I went down to the kitchen and made cheese toast, he wandered away and I assumed he was going to the bathroom, so I was surprised when, a minute later, I heard him talking. I knew he must be talking to my dad, and intrigued, I followed him. I found him in the doorway of my dad’s study, leaning against it with his shoulder, uber-casual. It really hit me in that moment how comfortable he is at my house. Just as comfortable as I am at his. It made me so happy, I couldn’t help myself. I crept up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, peering over his shoulder at my dad, who smiled at me.

They were talking about coffee. Ari had apparently come in here to ask my dad if he could have some of the coffee out of the coffeepot, and they were talking about how they like their coffee. 

“Have you tried it with cream and sugar, though, Ari? I’m not talking about milk. I mean cream. It’s a whole different experience.”

“I’m sure it is,” Ari conceded. “But not an experience I’m interested in having.” 

My dad laughed, and so did Ari, and I thought I would die to see them like that. So entertained and at ease with each other. 

“You’re missing out, man,” my dad said, and Ari laughed again. 

“Not as much as this guy, who won’t drink it at _all,_ ” Ari teased, placing his arms over mine. 

“That’s a funny thing to say, Ari. I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything,” I said. They both laughed.

“Do you want a refill while I’m at it?” Ari asked, and my dad smiled and nodded. Then Ari pulled gently out of my arms and went to get my dad’s cup from him, and we went back to the kitchen. He poured some coffee for himself and some for my dad and some orange juice for me, which, for some reason, felt like a devastatingly romantic thing for him to do. I took it from him and promptly set it on the counter, and then I pulled him into a rather enthusiastic kiss. He immediately kissed me back with just as much enthusiasm, and I guess we lost track of time because suddenly the refrigerator door was opening because my dad was there, and we kind of jumped away from each other. 

“Sorry,” Ari mumbled, turning pink.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” my dad said, pouring a shot of cream into the coffee. “I just got impatient for my refill.” He winked, and Ari blushed deeper. My dad cocked his head to the side, considering. “Truly, Ari. Don’t be embarrassed.” He moved to the sugar bowl and spooned some into his cup. “I know this sounds super weird, but seeing you make out with my son makes me very happy.” 

Ari stared at him as he stirred his coffee, then turned to stare at me. “So _that’s_ where you get it,” he said. 

“Get what, Ari?” I asked. My dad looked up and watched us. 

“You know. The whole saying-really-awkward-things-and-not-seeming-embarrassed-by-it thing.” 

My dad and I both dissolved into laughter, and then Ari did, too. 

“Really, though. Your mother and I never apologize for kissing in front of you, Dante.”

“You don’t kiss like _that_ in front of me, though,” I interjected. I don’t know why I was countering him. I just like to engage, I think.

My dad laughed. “Well, to be fair, you weren’t kissing like that in front of me, either. I walked in on you. I apologize.” 

Ari looked like he was going to die of embarrassment. I put my hand on his, where it rested on the countertop. “You okay, Ari?” I asked him, trying and failing to suppress my smile. 

“I’m fine,” he said weakly. He pulled his hand from beneath mine and rubbed his temples like he had a headache. “I’m fully aware of what I signed up for.”

That made my dad and I laugh, again, and after a minute Ari smiled ruefully and put _his_ hand on _mine._ God, I loved his playfulness. I couldn’t believe it was hiding in there all this time.

Of course, according to him, it hadn’t been. _“You made this.”_ That’s what he said to me. It might be the best thing he ever said to me. Aside from _“I love you.”_ Nothing beats that. 

“What are you boys getting into today?” my dad asked. I looked at Ari, because I had no idea. I hadn’t begun to think about what we’d be doing. I didn’t care, at all, as long as I was with him. 

It had always been like that. When he called me up and asked me to go running at six in the morning, I’d said yes without hesitation even though I hate getting up early. When he asked me to volunteer with him at his mom’s church, I’d said yes without hesitation even though I had no idea what I was volunteering for. It never mattered to me, what we were doing, or when. It didn’t matter if it was hard or boring or completely off the wall. I just wanted to be with him every second I could, since the moment I’d met him. 

“Actually, I had an idea,” he said now. My dad and I both looked at him expectantly. He looked at me. “Do you want to go to Western Playland?”

My mouth fell open. I had never been to the amusement park he was talking about. Suddenly images filled my head. Ari and I on a roller coaster, screaming and flying through the air together. Ari and I _in line_ for a roller coaster, passing the time by making each other laugh. Ari and I people-watching and making up stories while eating cotton candy and greasy pizza. Ari and I kissing at the top of the ferris wheel at sunset. 

_“Yes,”_ I said fiercely. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [rareandbeautifulthing](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rareandbeautifulthing).


	2. roller coaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet romance, assholes, Ari being a badass, cool strangers. And a sort-of marriage proposal. It's been a busy first hour at the amusement park ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea this was going to go in the direction it did. [Pai61](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pai61/pseuds/Pai61) we're going to get to the tank tops next, I promise ;)

When we got to Western Playland, I felt so damn proud to be with Ari (I always do), and I wished to my core that we could walk around holding hands like all the straight couples do. I have this theory that in twenty years, gay people will be able to walk around holding hands. Maybe I’m crazy, but I hope not. I hope by the time we’re in our thirties, when we’re finally embedded fully in the twenty-first century, that we can hold hands in public.

In our thirties. What a presumptuous thing to think. Except it’s not. Not for Ari and me.

We’re going to get old together.

Anyway, we got there and we went through the obligatory turnstiles and we came out the other side grinning at each other, because this was the most romantic date we’d had yet, in a way. I mean really, when you think about it, an amusement park is the ultimate date because it’s full of tangible opportunities for breathlessness. What a metaphor for love, right?

He walked as close to me as he could without embracing me, our hands brushing against each other intentionally, and I swear I think he would have taken mine if he wasn’t so sensitive to how freaked out I was by the assault. I really think so. I think this boy has crossed a line into the world of not giving a fuck if people know he’s gay, and that makes my heart feel like it’s soaring.  
It also makes my heart soar that he’s so in tune with me, and cares so much, that he didn’t take my hand. Because he knew, without me ever having to say it, that I was a little bit scared. I hated it, but it was true.

Anyway, we walked close together, slowly, our hands brushing. Like neither of us wanted to rush the day.

“What do you want to do first?” he asked me. I linked my pinky with his, just for a moment, but his curled around mine and then I couldn’t bear to pull away, so we stood there looking at each other, holding pinkies. I know it sounds dumb but it was more intimate than I can express.

People walked past us, couples and families, kids and adults. None of them meant anything. My whole world was Ari and Dante.

I smiled at him. He smiled at me.

“Whatever you want, Dante. I’ll do anything you want,” he said softly, and I knew he meant it.

Did I think I was in love before? Because if so, nix that. I had no freaking idea what love was until that moment.

(I’m being dramatic. I’ve known what love was since that day at the pool.)

“Let’s start slow,” I said. “Carousel?”

He laughed loudly. “Is it just me, or did we just switch roles?” he asked, parroting what I’d asked him earlier.

Fuck it, I thought. I took his hand properly.

“Maybe switching roles sometimes is a couples thing,” I suggested, half to myself, but his smile brightened.

“Apparently,” he said, squeezing my hand.

So we rode the carousel with a hundred small children and a few stressed-out parents. I have no idea what horse I was on, but I remember his to the most intricate detail. It wasn’t a horse, actually. It was a lion. It was tawny with a dark gold mane. It had these sky-blue circles by its mouth to represent a bit in its mouth. It had a pink and blue and dark brown saddle. It had white streaks around the top of its arms, to represent light.

Ari’s black hair was flowing freely. It seemed alive. His dark brown eyes were dancing, childlike. His smile showed his white teeth, curtained by inviting pink lips. His jaw was strong and his skin was flawless, the color of coffee with a splash of cream.

My thoughts went back to the coffee conversation he’d had with my dad, in my house, after waking up in my bed, and for a second I couldn’t catch my breath.

This amazing, brilliant, brooding, sweet, mean, loyal, sexy, impossible person was my boyfriend. He wanted me. He kissed me back.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

It seemed he couldn’t take his eyes off me. He just kept watching me as we went around and around, canned calliope music playing in the background. A child shrieked in excitement. We held each other’s gaze.

When the ride ended, we clambered off our horses (except his was a lion; I have no idea what mine was) and stumbled, laughing, to the gate.

“Was that slow enough for you?” he asked. I laughed as he took my hand again, threading his fingers through mine. I threaded mine back, holding tight.

“It was fun,” I said.

“It was. The view was nice, anyway.” He winked at me. “But...can we ride El bandido?”

“I want to marry you.” I hadn’t known I was going to say that until I did. He didn’t seem surprised, though.

“Good,” he said.

On the way to the roller coaster, a group of guys who looked like they’d just stepped out of a frat house spotted us. We were still holding hands, walking very close together. They started saying things to us - one of the guys in particular. Awful things that made me want to cry. I squeezed Ari’s hand. I didn’t realize how hard until later, when I saw it and realized I’d actually left bruises. I never even knew a hand could bruise.

Ari didn’t let go, though. He was stroking his thumb along the back of my hand, gently, slowly, like nothing major was happening. His body was tense, though. He stared at the guys.

“Stop,” he said, and his voice was like ice. It actually made me cringe. The guy stopped as if Ari had cast a spell. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my chest, in my throat, in my temples. But Ari stayed still. He was calm, and cold, and dangerous. He wasn’t afraid to fight all those guys, right there in the amusement park, and it was obvious. Several people had stopped walking to stand and watch.

A couple of the guys turned around, like they were suddenly not wanting to be part of the situation anymore. A couple others laughed nervously. One of them hit the ringleader on the shoulder. “It’s not worth it, man,” he said. The ringleader - the one who had started saying things first, and had said the most - sneered, but he started walking backwards, away from us. Ari’s thumb never stopped moving on my hand, back and forth, back and forth. It felt like a whisper. A promise. He was going to keep us safe. We were going to walk away from this, one way or another.

Ari never stopped staring him down as he walked away backwards. His cronies were a few steps ahead of him, and suddenly he turned and followed them quickly. The observers wandered away. Ari turned to me then, all animosity and threat gone from his face, replaced by the gentlest concern. I was frozen in place.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, using his free hand to pry my fingers off the hand I was holding and pulling me into his arms. As soon as my body was against his, I melted into him. I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. God, I hated what those guys had done to me. Not these guys. The ones who had hurt me.

“Hey,” a male voice behind me said. I tensed like a bowstring, and Ari tightened his arms around me. “That was badass.” Ari nodded once, in acknowledgement. “But hey,” the guy went on. “I want you to know that if they’d jumped you, we would have helped you kick their asses.”

I wanted to see who was speaking, so I turned around in his arms, putting my arms over his so he didn’t think I was ready for him to let go. There were three punk rockers there. Two guys and a girl. Teenagers, like us. All their clothes were black and had rips and safety pins in them. All three had combat boots on. One guy had a purple mohawk and an eyebrow ring, the other had his hair all in skinny braids that were black with white tips. The girl had short black hair that was standing in spikes and a ring in her bottom lip. She was wearing a red and black schoolgirl skirt - the only garment among them that wasn’t solid black.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice hoarse. My throat was dry.

“It’s bullshit, that you have to deal with that shit,” the one with a purple mohawk said. I felt Ari nod again.

“Yeah, it is,” he said. He sounded wary.

“I think they were crazy to fuck with you in the first place, man,” the girl said. “I don’t think that dude got a good look at you before he started talking shit, or he never would’ve done it.” She eyed Ari appreciatively (I couldn’t blame her), and took a cigarette out of a pack and lit up.

“What ride were you guys heading to?” the guy with the braids asked. My heart rate had slowed considerably, but I felt shaky and a little clammy. Apparently I’d broken out in a sweat during the altercation.

“El bandido,” Ari said.  
  
“Do you want to come with?” I asked. I suppressed a smile when I felt Ari sigh inaudibly against me.

“Sure, man. That’s where we were heading, too,” the one with the purple mohawk said. We all started walking together. Ari took my hand and caught my eye, asking me with his eyes if it was okay. I smiled at him in answer.

“I’m Jet,” the one with the black and white braids said. “This is Eric and Sara.” Eric nodded at us. Sara ignored everyone and smoked her cigarette, watching the log flume tipping down the hill. She watched it until it hit the water below, creating a huge splash. She grinned when that happened, like it really entertained her. It made me like her.

I liked all of them, really.

“I’m Dante. This is Ari,” I said. Sara looked over at us then and smiled. The guys nodded in greeting.

“Are you guys from El Paso?” I asked. They shook their heads.

“Las Cruces,” Eric said.

I was so curious about them. A lot of the people I’d hung out with in Chicago were punk rockers, and they were all really sweet. Kinder and gentler than most people. The girl I’d made out with a few times, the one who had asked if I was kissing a boy in my head, had been a punk rocker, actually. She’d had fire-engine red hair and a nose ring. She loved the Clash and Black Flag. She’d written me two letters since I’d been back, but I hadn’t had a chance to write her back yet. I made a mental note to write her back, and to tell Ari about her, too. I wasn’t close to her - I wasn’t close to anyone but Ari, really, and my parents - but I liked her a lot. She was really sweet and perceptive.

Eric said something really interesting, then. He asked us what our favorite books were. Ari perked right up, though I don’t think anyone but me could tell.

“That’s a nearly impossible question,” I said. “I like so many. I love poetry. We’ve been really into reading poetry to each other for ages. But novels, let’s see. The Sun Also Rises is pretty great.”

Eric nodded. “That’s a good one. Have you read For Whom the Bell Tolls? That’s my favorite Hemingway.”

I nodded. “I liked that one. It was a little dark for me, though.”

Eric laughed. “Fair enough. What about you, Ari?”

Ari looked at me, then at him. “Heart of Darkness,” he said gruffly.

“Oof,” Jet said, shaking his head. “Intense, man.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“You told me you hated that book,” I said.

“I lied,” he said. “I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever read.”

“Why did you lie?”

He looked dead at me. “I was lying a lot then. To both of us.”

I smiled and squeezed his hand. He squeezed mine back.

“You guys are alright,” Jet said. “Very clearly in love. I dig it. The world needs more of that.”  
I turned my head to beam at him, but not before I saw Ari smile at him first. A genuine smile.

We got to El bandido and waited in line. Even though we were all standing next to each other, we kind of grouped back up into our original groups. The three of them started arguing about whether to get pizza or Chinese later, and Ari kept eyeing me.

“What’s up, Ari? You keep looking at me in this way,” I asked him quietly. He smiled.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

The roller coaster was awesome. Amazing. We caught each other’s eye going up the first hill, and we held each other’s gaze until we had tipped over the edge. Then I threw my hands up into the air, and to my delight, so did Ari. We were screaming like lunatics. It felt powerful. Cathartic. When the ride jerked back into the station, Ari leaned over to me, looking windswept.

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too. So much,” I whispered back.

“Hey,” I said to our new friends when we disembarked. Sara’s face was flushed pink. Eric’s mohawk was a mess. We all stood around in a loose circle. “Thanks again,” I said. “I never thought a stranger would be supportive.”

“You’ve met some shitty strangers, man,” Jet said. Ari slipped his arm around my waist protectively. He knew what I was thinking about; we were both thinking about the lady who saw the assault going down and didn’t do anything. Didn’t even yell out her window, or call the police from the safety of her apartment.

I thought about telling Jet I knew that most people weren’t shitty. That I liked most people. In fact, I kind of liked everyone until they gave me a good reason not to. (It occurred to me that Ari and I were polar opposites in that respect. He disliked everyone until they gave him a good reason to like them.) (Everyone but me, actually. He’d liked me from the beginning.)

Ari pulled his arm from around my waist so he could reach out his hand. Apparently these kids had given him reason to like them. They didn’t shake hands, though. Instead, they all took turns hugging us. Ari probably hated it, but I thought it was an excellent thing to do. None of them were lame huggers, either. I hate it when people are lame huggers.

“See ya around, man,” Jet said.

“Check out _Anna Karenina_ ,” Eric said. 

“Already have. Love it,” I replied, and he grinned.

“Of course you do,” he said.

Then they wandered away. The last thing I heard any of them saying was Sara, insisting on pizza.

Ari looked at me. “That was weird,” he said. I laughed.

“No it wasn’t,” I said.

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [El Bandido](https://www.flickr.com/photos/31364780@N00/3533050764/in/photostream/)
> 
> So fun fact: the amusement park idea came about as I was typing it. (Honestly this entire story has, since the beginning - I've had no plan the whole time, which is a very fun way to write IMO.) Anyway, I started googling amusement parks in El Paso in 1986 and found out there were two: Western Playland and Magic Landing, but Magic Landing had this weird tragedy at it in 1985 and I didn't want ANY tragedy in this fluff-fest, so I chose Western Playland (which oddly has had its own share of drama, but not until later. El Paso seems a bit jinxed in the amusement park department tbh). (I have a fascination with amusement parks.)


	3. tank tops and true romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the day at Western Playland, wherein Ari and Dante spread gay throughout the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [Pai61](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pai61/pseuds/Pai61) for being an awesome supportive reader. Enjoy your boys in tank tops ;)

When we were standing in line for the haunted mine, Ari kept looking at me in this weird way. I kept smiling at him, and he’d smile back, but his eyes never lost their glint. Finally I asked him what was up.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You just keep looking at me in this way.” 

He shrugged. “I’m just happy.” I looked at him and waited. Because that wasn’t all. “You just look really super hot in your tank top,” he finally admitted. Lord help me, he started blushing. It was all I could do not to grab him and shove my tongue in his mouth right there.

We had both put on tank tops for the day because it was so hot out. I actually didn’t own any, so he’d lent me one. It was sort of a pink-salmon color with an LA Gear logo. Just boring, run of the mill. His was plain red. Also nothing special. I loved the way the red made the coffee color of his skin look so rich, though. And I  _ loved _ getting to gaze at his arms. 

I shook my head. “ _ How _ do you manage to say the exact things about me that I’ve been thinking about you? It’s almost eerie,” I said. And then, since he’d brought it up, I reached out and wrapped a hand around his bicep. I have pretty long fingers, but they didn’t even meet. He rewarded me with a knee-weakening smirk. 

“I guess we really like each other,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, and then he leaned over and kissed me quick, right there in front of all those families and kids. It was the most chaste kiss he’d given me yet, but I felt like I was going to dissolve into the concrete beneath my feet. Despite everything that had just happened an hour earlier, I didn’t feel a bit nervous. I knew he’d take care of me. It’s weird, because I don’t appreciate violence, really. But knowing that he was so unafraid to bring it made me feel strangely empowered. 

“God, I love you,” I said without meaning to. He grinned. 

“I love you, too, Dante.” He took a breath, like he was overwhelmed.  _ “So fucking much.” _

The line moved, then, and he took my hand as we stepped forward.

A really nice thing happened then. This lady, who was standing in line with her kids, caught my eye and smiled at me. It wasn’t much; it was just a smile. But it was genuine, and I could tell she had taken it all in - Ari and me holding hands, possibly the kiss he’d given me. Maybe she’d even overheard us. And she smiled at me, like it made her happy. It brightened an already glowing moment and I smiled back at her, so big. 

Between that mom and the trio we had met earlier, I was feeling pretty good about the world, which was refreshing. The assault had knocked me down a peg, made me question whether people were as good as I’d always believed. Not too much - I don’t think anything could make me stop loving people in general. But it had made me wonder if I’d ever be accepted in public for who I am. Today showed me that yes, I will. 

Anyway, the haunted mine is hands down my favorite attraction at Western Playland, though I can’t say much about the ride itself. The cars are small, made for two to three people, so Ari and I got one to ourselves, and the minute we went through the saloon doors into the darkened attraction, we were making out like there was no tomorrow. I don’t know who grabbed whom first - I guess it was simultaneous - but it was seriously some of the best making out yet. We’d just built up that tension, like we do, standing in line barely touching each other, so the intensity when we could finally get our hands on each other was...well, intense. 

Come to think of it, “intense” is a very fitting word for our entire relationship. 

So it was probably a scary ride...it’s supposed to be, anyway...but I have no idea, because for me it was just sheer bliss. Just my sexy, enigmatic, completely non-enigmatic boyfriend with his tongue in my mouth and his hands under my shirt. My eyes were closed and I would have kept making out with him forever, but he pulled away because he’s good at knowing certain things, like when our car went through the final set of saloon doors and into the sunlight where we were supposed to disembark. He pulled away, eliciting a little whimper of discontent from me, but then I remembered where we were and realized there was a boy about our age unlatching the door and looking at us with such a smirk, I was 100% sure he was amused and a little jealous, and I flashed him a grin because I didn’t blame him. I’d be jealous of me if I wasn’t me. 

Actually I  _ am _ a little jealous of myself sometimes, and then I remember there’s nothing to be jealous of because all of this is MINE, Ari is MINE, and I don’t mean that in some unhealthy twisted way. I mean it because it’s real. No one can own another person, but you  _ can _ have such a connection with someone else that it’s this energetic thing that is shared, and that’s what Ari and I have. We have something that is so real, on so many levels, and all the levels affect the other levels and we’re full, complete people because of all those levels that we share together. 

I wish I could explain it better. Neither language I know has a word for what it is. I’m not sure it could be encompassed in a word. I’m not sure it could be described if I never stopped describing it for the rest of my life. 

Anyway, that was how the haunted mine went down.

The ferris wheel was pretty great too, though. We rode that after we’d gone on a few other rides, including the log flume, where we’d gotten quite wet. Then we’d sat at plastic picnic tables and eaten huge, greasy slices of pizza and funnel cakes covered in powdered sugar while the sun dried us off, and then we both felt so full we just kept sitting there people-watching, just like I’d imagined. We played our old game of making up stories about the people who passed by, trying to outdo each other with how off the wall they were. Eventually our three friends from earlier walked by and spotted us and came to sit down. Apparently Sara had won the pizza-vs-Chinese argument, because Eric went to get pizza slices for them. Sara asked if she could have a sip of my Coke. I passed it to her. 

“You guys get into anything good since last we saw you?” Jet asked. 

Ari shrugged. “We went in the tunnel of love,” I said.

Jet raised his eyebrows and Sara laughed.

“What tunnel of love?” she asked. I glanced over at Ari. He was chuckling to himself, so I went on.

“Well it was technically the haunted mine, but we turned it into the tunnel of love,” I said. Everyone cracked up, then, and Jet reached out to Ari for a high-five. For just a second, Ari hesitated. Then he high-fived him and grinned. 

It made me so happy. 

Eric came back with their pizza and wanted to know what we were all laughing at. He had apparently given up on making his mohawk stick up and now had it pulled into a ponytail on top of his head. 

“Ari and Dante have been spreading gay throughout the park,” Sara said, slurping the last of my Coke. I narrowed my eyes at her. Everyone laughed again.

So yeah...back to the ferris wheel. We really did wait until the sun was setting. By that time we had gone on El Bandito around six more times, and had gone through the tunnel of love/haunted mine almost as many, and ridden several other rides and won each other teddy bears in games. I won the game where you had to hold on to this weird rope ladder thing that twisted all around while you climbed it, and it must not be easy to win because the kid running it kept shaking his head and saying, “You’re super determined, dude.” Ari laughed loudly and said, “You have no idea.”

Ari won the how-hard-can-you-hit-the-button-with-the-mallet game. Of course. Because my boyfriend is a buff body-builder angel. 

So then we decided we wanted to go home soon, because we were tired and hot from the long day walking around the park. So we got in line for the ferris wheel, agreeing it would be the last ride.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink below the tracks of the roller coasters. I leaned against the railing and Ari kept tracing these little patterns on my shoulder, and my skin was sizzling at his touch, but neither of us spoke or made a move to touch more. The line would move and we’d scoot down and resume our positions, me against the railing and him with his fingertip drawing on my shoulder, our teddy bears tucked under our arms. It may sound dumb, but it was true romance. So much conveyed with no words.

And then, suddenly, he said, “What time does Cathedral start?”

“7:45.”

He nodded, slowly, like he was thinking. “What time does it let out?”

“2:50. But I’ll have swim practice every day except Friday. So I won’t be done until 4:30.”

He nodded again. I just waited. 

“Maybe I could give you a lift?” he asked. 

I thought about that. Thought about Ari picking me up at my house every morning (I’m always so dead in the mornings; maybe I _ should  _ consider coffee) and waiting in the parking lot for me after school every day. Starting and ending each day by snuggling up against him in his truck. Goodbye kisses and hello kisses.

I liked the idea. 

“I mean,” he continued, “it could be a nice guarantee. In case we get busy with homework or jobs or whatever.” He shrugged, but his eyes never left mine. “It would be nice to know for sure I’m going to see you every day.”

I smiled. “It’s a great idea, Ari,” I said, quietly, and I took his hand. Right then the line moved, so we stepped forward, hands linked. “Do you really want to wait for me after school, though? I won’t get done with swim practice until an hour after you’re done with school.”

“I don’t mind,” he said immediately, and my heart felt like it was going to burst. This was always how he’d been. So devoted. Even before he realized he loved me. 

“I’d love it, then. I’d love to know I’m going to see you every morning and every afternoon. And then, on weekends, we’ll be inseparable.”

“Of course,” he said off-handedly, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. 

I decided to push my luck. “And on breaks. Any time we can be together, we’ll be together.” It’s what I wanted more than anything. What I’d always wanted, since I met him.

He smiled. “Yeah, no shit, Dante. If I could live with you permanently, starting today, I would.”

My heart was racing. I looked at him. “I meant it when I said I want to marry you.”

He looked at me. “I meant it when I said, ‘good.’ I want to marry you, too, Dante.” 

The line moved. We took our steps forward. 

“Is it weird?” I asked him. “I mean, we have so little dating experience. Is it weird to want to be with your high school sweetheart for the rest of your life?”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, which made me smile. “Am I your high school sweetheart? Because you’re my whole-life sweetheart. I don’t give a shit how old we are.” My heart was in my throat. “Do you want to date other people?”

“No,” I said, before the full sentence had left his mouth.

“Neither do I. So who fucking cares, that we don’t have a lot of exes.” He shrugged. “I think that’s a myth, anyway.”

“What’s a myth?” I asked him.

“That people need to date a bunch of people to find The One. Some people do. But some people don’t need to date anyone, because they’re not into it and they’re happy on their own. And some people know who they’re going to love most for the rest of their lives, right off the bat. But mostly it’s a hodgepodge of in between.” He shrugged again. “Why does everything always have to fit in a box?”

This. This is why he’s the coolest person I’ve ever met. Because who  _ says  _ that? So simply?

Aristotle Mendoza does. 

“We don’t fit in a box, Ari,” I murmured.

“We definitely don’t,” he replied, grinning at me. “Or maybe we made our own box. The best friends-lovers box that involves spreading gay throughout the park.”

I doubled over. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard. 

ANYWAY. Back to the fucking ferris wheel. There’s just so much to write down, so many things I never want to forget. 

The sun was setting and the ride moved slowly. It stopped for every other car, because everyone went around twice. We were about halfway up when Ari started kissing my neck. It tickled and it felt so good. Then he started whispering in my ear, taking little breaks between words to kiss my neck and bite my earlobe. I glanced down and the people on the ground weren’t so far away, yet. I know they could see us if they looked up. But I didn’t want him to stop. In fact, some small part of me wanted people to see us. I was still afraid of getting attacked again, but I also felt like I was coming back to myself. Like the assault had scared part of me into - well, into a box - and this day, with Ari standing down those frat-boy bullies, and Eric, Jet, and Sara befriending us, and that mom who smiled at me...well. It’s like the box had gotten opened up, and I was ready to emerge from it and be my usual fearless self.

I needed to be. 

So I turned my head and kissed him so fiercely, the car tilted and felt like it was going to pitch us out onto the ground below. We grabbed ahold of each other and laughed. “Sorry,” I said. 

“Don’t be. If I died kissing you, I’d die happy,” he said, and I laughed again and we went back to kissing, much more carefully this time. The car jolted up and up and we just kept kissing, and then suddenly he pulled away and said, “Look, Dante.” I wove our fingers together and looked. 

The sun was almost at the horizon. The sky was pink and gold. In front of us lay the whole park, all the people and all the rides. The roller coasters twined through the sky, the drop tower, the colorful top of the carousel. There was a kitschy-looking version of Michelangelo's Creation of Adam on top of it; it must have been there just for people on the ferris wheel, and it was one of the weirdest things I’ve ever seen. Ari and I were still dissolved in laughter over it when the ferris wheel started its descent. 

“Is that sacreligious?” he asked me, wiping his eyes. The question made me burst into fresh gales of laughter.

“It...it must be,” I wheezed, and we fell into each other again. God, I love that boy. For some reason we get so amused about stuff that’s not even that funny. Actually, in that moment, laughing so hard with him on that ferris wheel, I suddenly remembered the day we met. We laughed so hard together, about our names. And I remember wondering why we were laughing so hard. It didn’t feel like it was because of our names. It felt like something bigger. 

“Ari,” I said, taking some deep breaths so I could talk without laughing. “Do you remember the day we met?”

He took one last chuckle and said, “Every detail.”

“Do you remember how we laughed about our names?” 

“Oh God, that was probably the hardest I’d ever laughed in my life. I mean, it’s not anymore, obviously. But then it was.”

“Why were we laughing?”

He understood what I was getting at. He met my eyes and smiled. “I wondered that. I thought maybe we were...relieved.”

“Relieved?”

He shrugged, and actually looked a little embarrassed. “Yeah. I mean it makes sense now, now that I understand I was meeting the guy I’d spend my life with. I'd always been alone, but from the minute I met you, I wasn't anymore.” My heart melted a little and I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t because he kept talking. “But even then. I thought it then. That day. I thought, ‘maybe we’re relieved.’” He shook his head. “I didn’t understand the thought. Isn’t that weird?”

“Weird,” I whispered, trying not to let the tears in my eyes fall. He chuckled and touched my face with the hand that wasn’t holding mine. 

“Not so weird, though,” he said, and I shook my head in agreement. 

“Not so weird.” Then a tear did leak out, and he smiled and brushed it away, and then I laughed. “I swear, Ari, you were aware of your subconscious like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

He laughed too. “It’s because I was making my conscious subconscious. I should have been thinking, Goddamn, this is literally the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, how can I get him out of this pool and somewhere private so I can kiss his face off. That’s what I was  _ really _ thinking. But I shoved all that down and just thought, huh, for some reason I don’t want to tell this guy to fuck off like I do everyone else.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I did a bit of both. We were brushing the bottom of the wheel now, heading back up for our second round. He kissed the tears off my cheeks, right there in front of the attendant and all the people in line. 

“I didn’t let myself know what I was really thinking about,” he said. “Like, all the time. I mean, seriously, Dante. I’d get mad at myself because I was always thinking about you.  _ Always.  _ And I’d catch myself doing it and get mad because on some level, I knew I was in love with you, and that terrified me. But I told myself I didn’t know why. Why I was thinking about you so much, or why it made me mad.”

Once again, he’d rendered me speechless. 

I just can’t get over how much he talks now, and how much he  _ says _ . How romantic and open he is.

I nuzzled my face beneath his jaw, kissed his neck. Sucked a little.

“Ferris wheel hickeys?” he asked, and I laughed. 

“Yes.”

So we gave each other ferris wheel hickeys. When we got to the top, we quit fooling around enough to take in the view. The sky had faded to a deep rose pink with streaks of red and purple. The roller coasters looked so magical against it. I felt Ari’s gaze and turned my head to meet it. He smiled at me.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Your face against this sky is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he answered. And I can’t explain what that moment felt like. Just - so much beauty and wonder and joy overflowing in my heart. 

I kissed him, and he kissed me back. For a split second I remembered the first time I’d kissed him, in my room, when he’d kissed me back and then he’d pulled away. The memory was bittersweet, now, instead of painful. God, it had been painful before. But now I knew it  _ had _ worked for him. Now I knew he didn’t call me for days after because he was trying so hard to stuff his feelings down, and kissing me had made it harder than ever. (Those had been some of the most sickening days of my life. I thought I’d lost him.)

I pushed the memory out, so I could make a new one. Because he sure was kissing me back now. I mean, the guy was kissing me with everything he had. I didn’t even feel the ferris wheel lurch when it started moving. I probably would have kept making out with him forever, but we heard people whooping and shouting below us, so we pulled apart to look at what was going on and I realized we were halfway to the bottom already.

It was our friends. They were in line, and Sara was whooping in a high-pitched voice, and Jet was whistling and clapping, and Eric cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted in a deep voice, “Get it, boy!” Ari flipped them off and I blew them a kiss and we all dissolved into laughter. I could see the people in line next to them scowling, annoyed by these punk rock kids screaming beside them, maybe annoyed they were screaming in support of two guys kissing. But I didn’t care. Nothing could wipe the grin off my face. 

We hugged them again, when we got off the ride, and both Jet and Sara kissed our cheeks, and then we walked away. And we’ll probably never see them again, but I think I’ll still remember them when I’m old. 

“I think I’ll remember them when I’m old,” I said as we walked across the parking lot. Ari took my hand and nodded. 

“You will. And if you forget, I’ll remind you,” he said, and I nearly started crying again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the painting that was on top of the carousel. ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Creation_of_Adam#/media/File:Michelangelo_-_Creation_of_Adam_\(cropped\).jpg)  
> OK y'all, so I always imagine Ari as a young Tyler Blackburn (he looks just like him I swear) and Dante as a young Ezra Miller (because I'm obsessed with Ezra Miller, yes, but also because of his delicate facial features and dark-coloring-but-still-looking-like-a-white-guy thing).  
> So just for funsies, here are photos of them:  
> [my Ari](http://rebloggy.com/post/pretty-little-liars-my-edit-pll-bw-2k-tyler-blackburn-plledit-tyler-blackburn-ed/59859892228)  
> [my Dante](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/4292562129825545/)  
> 


	4. a lovely proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari suggests something Dante is into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder for my loyal readers: I changed the first fic so they haven't had sex yet. It was too rushed that way.

8/26/88

God, the past couple of weeks have been a dream. 

School is starting up on Monday. Three short days of summer left. Ari and I have been inseparable since we got together, and it’s been nothing short of miraculous. I can’t believe how happy I am, all day, every day. He keeps taking me on dates - we’ve been to the movies twice (we held hands the whole time), we’ve been out to dinner and out to breakfast and out to lunch. But mostly we’ve been going swimming, and hanging out in our bedrooms, and driving out to the desert. It’s a lot like last summer, before I moved away, except it’s better because instead of longing to touch him, I’m getting to touch him. Instead of biting off my words when I want to tell him I love him, I let myself say it, and he always smiles and says it back. It’s a dream come true.

Anyway, it’s been a while since I wrote, but I want to write now, because I feel like good stuff is coming. 

“Your birthday is Friday, right?”

Ari grunted in confirmation. He was lifting a barbell, and I knew better than to ask him stuff that required an answer when he was doing that. But I never seemed to be able to stop myself. 

We were in his basement, and I was sitting in an old armchair, watching him. I love watching him lift weights, because I get to see his muscles flexing to an extreme degree, again and again. I get to see the cords stand out in his arms and the look of determination on his face. I know I’m awesome, but I still can’t believe this movie-star-sexy guy is my boyfriend sometimes. He’s on a different level of hotness than most people. I realize I’m biased, since I’m in love with him, but I also just think it’s a fact. 

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” I asked, and then remembered I shouldn’t ask him something that required an answer. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He never does, when I do it. If his parents come down there and ask him something while he’s working out, he scowls at them, but whenever I do it he just grunts out an answer, or else puts the barbell down long enough to talk to me if the answer is more than a word or two long. 

Anyway, I asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, so he lowered the barbell all the way to the floor and wiped his face with a towel. 

“Actually,” he said, and then he swigged water from a plastic cup he’d brought down with him. “I had an idea.” I raised my eyebrows and waited. “Do you want to go camping?”

Camping. We’ve not done that before.

“Camping, Ari?” I asked him. “Just us two?” My head was already miles ahead, imagining an entire weekend with him all to myself, under the stars. 

“Definitely just us two,” he said. I grinned.

“I’d love to,” I said. 

I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be ready to do anything sexual by then. Since it had only been a couple of weeks since he told me he wasn’t ready, I didn’t think it would make much sense. But I couldn’t help but hope. It’s been over a year since we’d talked about how we both wanted to have sex (not with each other - we weren’t there yet, even though he was definitely the person I was thinking about when I thought about it), and in that year not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought about it. About having sex with him. I’m not sure if it’s normal, how much I think about it, but I think it probably is. I was sixteen then, seventeen now. Most guys my age think about sex all the time, at least gauging by what they talk about. I thought about the lifeguards at the pool, how immature they were about it. How they objectified girls they wanted to sleep with. I’d never objectified Ari that way. I don’t think I could. I want to have sex with Ari because I love him. I really, really love him, with all my heart, and I think being able to be that physically intimate with him would provide some kind of balance to how emotionally intimate we are.

I didn’t want to bring it up, though. I’d decided to let him bring it up, because I know myself and I know I can get pretty insistent about things I feel strongly about. And the last thing I’d ever want to do is push him into something he wasn’t ready for yet. I’d done it before, when I talked him into kissing me that day in my room, and I’ve always kind of regretted that. I’d honestly thought if he just kissed me, he’d realize he loved me back, but it didn’t turn out that way and instead it just made me feel like I’d done something selfish. Something that hurt us both.

“What are you thinking so hard about over there?” Ari asked. I realized he’d gone back to lifting, and watching me, while I just sat there thinking about all of this. 

“I’m just thinking about camping,” I said, and it wasn’t really a lie, because that’s where my train of thought had originated. He lifted his eyebrows, like he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“Dante,” he said, putting his barbell down again and walking over to me. He knelt on the floor in front of me, between my legs, and put his hands on my thighs and looked up at me. The casual way he touches me now still blows my mind. It’s still pretty crazy to me, how much of a 180 he did. 

“What, Ari?” I asked, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. 

“What are you thinking about?”

I laughed, hard, and he cracked a wicked grin. He had promised to tell me everything he was thinking, any time I asked. I never expected him to turn it around on me. 

I mean, really, I usually say everything I’m thinking to him anyway. Usually, he doesn’t need to ask.

But he had, now, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to keep anything from him. I still didn’t want to pressure him about sex, though, so I wasn’t sure how to respond. I bit my bottom lip.

“You’re adorable when you do that,” he said, smiling up at me with so much openness it nearly broke my heart with joy.

“Okay. I’ll tell you. But I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” I began, and his brow furrowed. “It’s not bad,” I said quickly, because he was looking pretty concerned. “It’s just...I was thinking about having sex with you.” I was glad to see his brow relax immediately. He didn’t even blush. “I just don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you. Because I’m not.”

“I know you’re not, Dante.” He smiled at me. “For all your tendency to be pushy” - he winked to let me know he was teasing me - “you’ve been very cool about the whole thing.” 

I smiled back at him. “I meant what I said. I’m in no rush. We have our whole lives, right?” 

He leaned up and kissed me briefly in response, and I could actually taste his sweat, and I guess it’s a testament to how into him I am that I found it extremely sexy. I wanted to keep kissing him, but he pulled away. 

“So you like the camping idea?” he asked. I nodded. “I was thinking we could go to Gila National Forest. It’s only a couple of hours away.” 

“Excellent idea, Ari.” 

So this time next weekend, we’ll be settled into our campsite, making s’mores and maybe…

“Do you want me to try to get some pot?” I asked. His eyes narrowed.

“Not from Daniel,” he said. I laughed.

“Not from Daniel,” I agreed. 

“Then yes. And some beer.”

“You want to party hard, huh?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “It’s my seventeenth birthday. Hell yeah I want to party hard.” 

Now he’s asleep in my bed, his hair splayed over my pillow and one gorgeous arm above his head, and I’m going to go to bed too because I’ve been getting up at the crack of dawn to go running with him. 

8/28/88

Tomorrow’s the first day of school. Our parents were all in agreement that we needed to sleep at our own houses on school nights to ensure we get plenty of sleep, which is pretty dumb because it’s not like we’re keeping each other up late. 

Well, I guess that’s not entirely accurate. I definitely stay up later than usual these days, because Ari and I usually end up either losing track of time making out, or else we get into some deep philosophical discussion and lose track of time that way. Or both. 

Just last night, we were talking about the possibility of parallel realities. I don’t even remember what got us on the subject, but he said something about how maybe every choice we could possibly make, we make, in all these simultaneous universes. He said in a different universe, he’d kept kissing me back that first time we kissed in my bedroom, and we got together then. And in a different universe, things had gone the same up until the night he told me he loved me, but in that universe, he didn’t say it because he’d clammed up when I told him I couldn’t be friends with him anymore, and we had stopped talking. He said maybe that’s why we sometimes feel sad or happy for no reason, because all of the universes kind of energetically affect the others. So when we make a bad choice in one, all of our parallel selves feel a little sad suddenly. And when we make a good choice, all our parallel selves feel happy.

See, that’s why I freaking love Ari so much. (That and a thousand other reasons, many of them indefinable.) He told me recently that everything I say is interesting (which was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me), but in reality, I think everything _ he  _ says is interesting. That’s partly because he doesn’t say that much. I mean he does, to me, but not to anyone else. And even what he says to me is a lot less than what some people say to total strangers. He just doesn’t talk unless he’s got something meaningful to say, which kind of automatically makes everything that comes out of his mouth fascinating. 

Anyway, I asked if he thought everything was the same in these parallel universes until whatever shift happened to make them diverge. He thought a minute and said, “Probably not. Probably there are little differences. Like, the curtains are a different color.” 

That made me laugh. “The curtains, Ari?” 

He laughed then, too. “I mean, that’s just an example. The point is, if there are differences they’re probably small.”

“What if they’re not, though? What if there are versions of us in other universes that are from different cultures, or different time periods? Maybe we’re living the same basic story, but the reasons behind things are different. Like, it takes a lot of courage to be together now, in this life, because of how homophobic people can be, and how everyone assumes every gay guy has AIDS, and it was extra hard for you because of your family dynamics, with your brother being estranged and all.” I paused for a moment, gauging his reaction, because sometimes the thing with his brother can be touchy. He was looking at me with rapt interest, though, and no sign of offense, so I continued. (I love that he trusts me so much, he lets me talk about sensitive stuff he doesn’t talk about with anyone else.) “But in a version of us in - I don’t know, the middle ages - it’s risky to be together because gay people are accused of witchcraft. And maybe the family dynamics are still challenging, but different. Like, maybe your brother is...I don’t know. A knight. And you don’t want to embarrass him.”

Ari was grinning. “If my brother is a knight, what does that make us?”

“Peasants,” I said without hesitation, and we both cracked up.

That conversation went on until we realized it was 2:30 in the morning, and then we decided we’d better stop talking and go to sleep, but when we got in bed he got all handsy (or maybe it was me that got handsy...I honestly don’t remember who started it), and the next thing I knew it was 3:30 because we’d spent an hour making out.

So I guess our parents are right, when they say we keep each other up. Per usual. 

I wonder if they think we’re staying up half the night having sex. I bet they do. It’s pretty cool of them, really, to let us spend the night together. I mean, if we weren’t both guys, I’m not sure that would fly. Maybe Ari was onto something when he said they can rest assured we’re not going to get each other pregnant. (God, that boy can make me laugh.)

Or maybe they’re just all so over the moon that we found each other, they want to give us space to be happy together. I know Ari’s parents were worried about him because he didn’t really have any friends before me. And I know my parents were worried about me, because I always had friends, but I never really connected with anyone in a meaningful way. That’s the funny thing about Ari and me. We were both loners, in our own way. And then we found each other and it was like all those years of being loners wasn’t anything sad; it was noble. Because neither of us wanted to give much of ourselves to anyone else if it wasn’t each other. Like, on some deep level we both knew that our soulmate was on the way, and neither of us wanted to settle for anything less.

Or maybe they see us as young adults who deserve some privacy.

Who knows. I sure don’t, and I also don’t really care. I’m just glad they didn’t pull some bullshit like making us keep the door open when we hang out, or making us sleep in different rooms or something. It’s nice to feel trusted and respected. 

Oh, and I did talk to my mom, about not barging in on us. I just told her it would be nice if she’d knock and wait for us to invite her in, because sometimes we might be in the middle of something private. She cocked an eye at me in this way, and I thought for a second she was going to lecture me about sex, but then she just laughed a little and said, “Fair enough.” 

My mom’s pretty great. 

Anyway, all that said, it still sucks to not get to sleep next to Ari tonight. I’m dreading getting into my bed, because even from where I sit here at my desk, it looks so cold and barren without him in it. I miss him desperately, and I just said goodbye to him a couple of hours ago. It does occur to me that this might not be healthy; maybe I shouldn’t be so dependent on his presence to make me happy. But then I remember that people who are in love get married for a reason: so they can be together in their down time. So they can curl up at night, and wake up to each other in the morning. So that their main reality is a shared thing. That’s all I want with Ari. For our primary reality to be a shared thing. 

I really, really want to marry him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SKAM fans will recognize the parallel reality/curtains thing ;)


	5. first day of school, 1988

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title pretty much sums this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK y'all, you know how I said I was writing a fic from Ari's POV? Well, it ended up blending with this one. So, while I've been structuring this whole fic as Dante journal entries, it hereby diverges from that format. 
> 
> I thought about making this a separate fic that ran parallel, and maybe that's the better choice, IDK. But that felt too extra to ask people (or myself) to do, to switch back and forth between fics to keep up with what was happening in a single story. So I'm just merging it all. I don't know how often I'll write from Ari's POV going forward. We'll find out together :)

ARI

I watch Dante dashing down the stairs and the thought that runs through my head is, he’s perfect. It’s always the thought that runs through my head when I look at him. It always has been.

This is what I’ve figured out. I’ve always been able to hide what I felt, probably because that’s what my parents did for so long. Not to blame them. It’s just that, in our house, hiding your feelings was just what you did. 

But I actually  _ felt _ so much. I resented the way my sisters treated me like a baby; I resented my dad for not talking to me; I resented my mom for trying to be a mom and make some rules. I disliked pretty much every other kid I met, because they all seemed shallow and phony and unable to really  _ see _ anything, and I was confused by how much guys fantasized about girls and why I didn’t. I knew that everyone’s biggest life goal seemed to be to fall in love, and I knew I was supposed to want that, too. With a girl. And I was a little worried that I couldn’t seem to get myself to feel what I was supposed to be feeling. I knew I was alone, and I knew I didn’t fit in, and I was miserable, and I was mad about it. 

In other words, I had thoughts, and I recognized them, and I had feelings, and I recognized them. I just hid them really well. Or not, if that made more sense in a given moment, like when someone needed to get punched in the face. But I was in control of all of it. I was self-aware and I made conscious decisions about my thoughts and feelings. 

And then Dante came along. 

He’s bounding down the stairs now, looking like a fucking angel in that way he does. He’s so beautiful, with his defined cheekbones and tousled hair and lean grace and infectious smile that could outshine the sun. One of his shoes is untied and his tie is undone, hanging loose, and his shirt is untucked. He looks exactly like one would expect Dante Quintana to look wearing a school uniform.

He’s at the foot of the stairs now, and is now standing right in front of me, closer than strictly necessary (or socially acceptable), and then he leans forward two inches to kiss me right on the mouth. It’s just a peck, but my eyes dart over to Mrs. Quintana, who is standing there smiling at both of us like it’s the most normal and wonderful thing in the world to see her son kiss another boy on the lips.

I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time they’ve seen us kiss, and anyway they’re as supportive as humanly possible. More so, even. The reality is, they all - his parents  _ and  _ mine - wanted us to get together long before I let myself know that I wanted it. Dante’s always known, because he’s Dante and he knows everything. I’m not saying that sarcastically. This guy is the most tuned-in and fearlessly intelligent person I’ve ever met. I don’t know what he sees in me.

I almost say that: “I don’t know what you see in me,” because that’s what happens now when I’m around him. Shit just comes out of my mouth without my permission. Not that I wouldn’t give it permission - I promised him I’d talk to him, and I meant it - but I’d like to at least have the  _ option _ to edit. I mean, who doesn’t edit? 

Me, apparently, when I’m around him. I’m trying to get used to it.

Luckily his mom is standing right there, and now his dad is walking out of the kitchen to join her, coffee mug in hand, so I manage to not vomit out the thought in my head. I promised Dante I’d talk to him, but I never made a similar promise to anyone else and so far, thankfully, my subconscious seems to be in agreement, because it shuts me up whenever it’s not just me and him.

“Dante, you could at least do up your tie,” Mr. Quintana says, lifting an eyebrow. 

“I will, Dad,” Dante says, never taking his eyes off of me. He’s smiling at me like he’s overjoyed to see me, which I think he probably is. I’m definitely overjoyed to see him. Nothing feels quite right without him. He’s smiling at me and it makes me feel a little weird, just because his parents are standing there and no matter how much they want me to love their son, it still feels weird to do it right in front of them. “What do you think, Ari? How do I look?”

My face gets hot. “I...uh…” What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Here, in front of his parents? He looks absolutely gorgeous. He looks free, and fearless, and happy. He looks like Dante.

He’s just standing there waiting for my response, looking amused and wicked and adorable. God, this guy infuriates me sometimes. In the best possible way. 

Mrs. Quintana is an angel, because she changes the subject by holding out something wrapped in a paper towel. Dante takes it happily, unwrapping it just enough to see what it is. 

“Churros!” he cries. “You’re the best, Mom.” He steps over to her and kisses her cheek, and then he kisses his dad, too, for good measure. Dante and his kissing. (Not that I’m complaining.) 

“Share them,” she says in a warning tone as I step towards her to kiss her cheek, too. Mr. Quintana is looking at me expectantly, so I give him a kiss as well, which at one time made me feel unbearably awkward but is now just a part of my daily routine. Meaning, I see him every day, and I always kiss his cheek.

It’s actually nice.

“I share everything with Ari, Mom.” Dante sounds slightly offended, and his mom laughs. I’ve gotten so used to the feeling of his warm fingers threaded with mine that I don’t even register that he’s holding my hand until he starts tugging it. “Gotta go! Love you both!”

This was all my idea, I’ll admit. His school starts a half hour earlier than mine, and he has swimming practice after, so I offered to drive him. I can drop him off and get to my own school on time, and then by the time mine ends, he’s already swimming. I can wait for an hour in the parking lot of his school and read until he’s done. Or, maybe, I can come watch him practice, which I’d really love to do but haven’t asked him about yet. 

The whole point is to definitely see him every day. I know we’d probably see each other every evening regardless, but being his ride guarantees that no matter how busy we get, we’ll still see each other every day. 

Weekends are a given. We’ll pretty much live with each other on the weekends, alternating whose house we stay at. Whose bed we share.

Actually that’s how it’s been since we got together, and last night was the first night we’d slept separately for weeks. I didn’t like it. But our parents had insisted that we stay at our respective houses on school nights, though, to “get enough sleep.” And with as supportive as they’ve been and with how accurate the idea that we don’t get enough sleep when we share a bed is, neither of us could really argue. 

It still sucked, though, to fall asleep without him in my arms.

So now it’s Monday, the first day of the new school year, and already Friday can’t come soon enough. Especially because my birthday is on Friday, and Dante and I are going camping to celebrate. 

As soon as we get in the truck, he’s pressed up against me, because that’s how we ride now. I absolutely love it. I love having my arm slung over him when we’re on a long stretch, and I love resting my hand on his knee when we’re driving around town and I need my hand free to shift gears frequently. I love how he always has his hand on my thigh, and how warm his body is up against mine. Even though we’re technically visible to anyone walking down the street or sitting next to us at a stoplight, being inside the truck feels intimate. Like we’re in our own little world.

That might be another reason I offered to drive him to and from school, to be completely honest. Just to be driving him  _ anywhere _ . 

I pull out of his driveway and head down the street, and as soon as we’re out of view of his house he says, “Pull over.”

I’m already doing it before “why?” makes it out of my mouth. God, this boy has me wrapped. 

“Because,” he murmurs, and then he puts his hands on either side of my face and slips his tongue into my mouth. We make out a few minutes before I pull back and say, “You’re gonna be late, you know.” Then I can’t help it, I kiss him again. When I pull back the second time I say, “God, I missed you.”

I always have to be the one to pull away. He will literally keep kissing me until I stop us. It’s kind of a thing with us. We’ve actually talked about it. Or, rather, I said it seemed like he’d always kiss me back as long as I was kissing him, and he confirmed it, and to be honest it’s been the truth since our very first kiss in his bedroom over a year ago.

I don’t know how the hell I got so lucky as to have this amazing, beautiful, brilliant guy be so completely into me. But he is. He definitely is. 

It blows my mind every single time I think about it.

He’s pressing his nose against mine, now, breathing my air and I’m breathing his. “I missed you, too,” he whispers. “We’ve got to figure out a way to convince our parents to let us stay together during the week.” 

“I’m all for it,” I reply, putting on my blinker so I can pull back into the road. “Maybe I can transfer to your school.”

He’s silent, so I glance at him, and he’s staring at me with his eyes so round it makes me laugh. 

“I told you my parents really wanted me to go there, didn’t I? I wanted nothing to do with it.” I nudged his knee. “I thought Cathedral guys were snobs.”

That breaks him out of his epic stare-fest because he throws back his head and laughs. I watch him, even though I should be watching the road. I can’t help it. I fucking LOVE it when he throws back his head and laughs.

“You never told me that, Ari Mendoza. Good God, man. What else are you hiding?” 

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “I told you about that girl I slept with when you were in Chicago, right?” I tease, and his eyes get huge again and he scowls and hits me in the leg.

“NOT FUNNY,” he growls, but he’s laughing. We’ve gotten to a light so I lean over and kiss him. I’m so glad he lets me do it. For a while he was a little skittish about being open with his sexuality in public, which I knew he hated, because he’s always prided himself on being completely real. But getting hurt so bad that time had an effect. But then we had this cool experience at Western Playland - not that it seemed cool when it was happening, but what came after was cool - and it kind of released him from whatever fear he’d been carrying with him. 

As for me, I can’t believe how easy it is. I can’t believe how much I  _ want _ people to know I’m gay, just so they can know I’m with him, because he’s the sexiest guy in the universe and he’s mine and I’m so fucking proud of that. Also, I’d love for someone to say some shit to me, thinking because I’m queer I’d run home and cry. 

I’ve never lost a fight. I lived with too much anger for too long, so fighting was second nature to me. It was the only way I could truly express myself. And I’m not angry anymore...not at all, really...but by the time I stopped being angry, I had gotten good at fighting. Extremely good. I might be a little overly cocky about this, but I don’t think so. I think I’m just realistic. Dante’s realistic when he says he’s always right, and I’m realistic when I say I can kick anyone’s ass. It’s just how things are. 

So I’m not afraid of being treated badly for having a boyfriend, which is kind of funny when you think about it, since that’s exactly what I’d been afraid of for so long. Not afraid of getting beat up, but afraid of being even more of an outsider than I already was. I always felt like such a reject for reasons I didn’t understand, so I couldn’t bear the idea of making it worse by giving anyone a concrete reason to hate me. And honestly, I’d thought my parents would disown me. They’d disowned my brother, or so I thought, so it seemed like a no-brainer that if they could disown him they could disown me. But then I found out they hadn’t disowned Bernardo - that they never would - and that they knew I loved Dante, and that they wanted me to be with him because they wanted me to be happy. (Also because they love him almost as much as they love me.) And suddenly I didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought.

When I think of it that way, I wish their opinion wasn’t so important to me. It seems childish. But it makes sense in a way, too, I guess. And Dante understands, and there’s really not anyone else whose business it is.

We pull up in front of his school and look at each other. Kids are milling around in the parking lot, trickling towards the building. Girls are squealing and throwing their arms around each other like they haven’t seen each other for years, and guys are high-fiving and exchanging laughs. 

“I’m going to tell everyone you’re my boyfriend, okay?” Dante asks. He actually looks slightly defiant, like he’s expecting me to protest. I smirk at him.

“Please do,” I say. He lifts his eyebrows, looking pleased. 

“Really?”

“I don’t want anybody hitting on you,” I say, and he laughs. I grin and add, “I’m proud, Dante. I’m proud to be with you.” He looks like he’s about to melt into the seat. I love it when I make him get that look on his face. “Not that they’ll care about who I am in particular, though. I mean, none of these people know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “They barely know me either, Ari. I haven’t been here for a year.” He looks up at the front steps, which are crawling with teenagers. “Last time I went here, I hadn’t met you yet.” He stares at the school and I stare at him. He seems lost in thought. After a minute I reach out and take his hand, and he starts, like he’d forgotten I was there. He looks at our hands, then at me, and his eyes are already so soft but they get softer. “I love it when you look at me like that,” he says.

“Like what?” I ask, even though I have a pretty good idea. I can feel love written all over my face.

He doesn’t answer. Instead he says, “it’s weird to think about. Not knowing you, I mean.”

It’s my turn to gaze out at the steps, lost in thought. “I know,” I say. “I feel like my life began when I met you” 

I know this sounds weird, but I can  _ feel _ him tearing up next to me. I can feel it when he’s about to cry. I never knew I could know someone so well. 

I turn to look at him, to either tell him not to cry or to kiss him (or maybe both), but the bell rings. He blinks a few times and sighs. “Guess I should go in,” he says. Sure enough, the parking lot is quickly clearing out as everyone makes a beeline for the building. “I wish you could come here.” 

I put my hand on his face. “I’ll see you after swimming,” I say.

“Oh! No swimming today,” he says, and suddenly he’s scrambling because I think it finally hit him that he’s about to be late for the first day of school. “It doesn’t start until next week.” 

“Will you be alright waiting for me to get here, then? After my school lets out?”

“Yeah, yeah. No problem.” He’s hopping out of the truck, slamming the door. For one second I think he’s going to dash into the building without saying goodbye, but then he’s crossing in front of the truck and he’s at my door. His tie is still hanging loose, his shoe still untied. He opens my door and leans into me. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Aristotle Mendoza,” he whispers, and before I can respond he’s planted a wet kiss on my mouth and turned to head into school. 

I crank down my window and call after him. “I love you!” I hadn’t intended to say that. I had intended to say something along the lines of “have a good day,” or “I’ll see ya later,” but like I said. My subconscious seems to have decided it’s tired of not saying exactly what I’m thinking to Dante. 

He turns around and walks backward, shoving his shirt tales into his waistband and smiling his bright smile. He throws kisses at me with both hands. He’s so beautiful. Then he dashes up the steps just as the second bell rings, and disappears into the building. It hurts my heart to see the doors close behind him. 

  
  


Somehow Gina and Susie spot me the minute I pull into the parking lot. I don’t even made it out of my truck before they’re right there. “You look different, Ari,” is Gina’s idea of a greeting.

“Well you look exactly the same,” I respond as I reach into my glovebox for a pencil. I forgot to bring a notebook. I’ll borrow paper today, I guess, if I need it.

“Seriously, you look...happy. Doesn’t he, Susie?” They’re literally following me as I walk up to the school. Out of habit, I’m remaining a few steps ahead of them, and then I sort of remember that I actually like them in a weird way. I slow my step and let them catch up, one on either side. 

“Yeah, what’s different, Ari?” Susie asks. She’s chewing gum, and she blows a huge bubble that pops loudly. I actually laugh. She and Gina exchange amazed looks. Surely they’ve heard me laugh before, but they’re acting like it’s the first time.

Come to think of it, it’s possible they haven’t heard me laugh before. 

“Honestly?” I ask. I don’t know what I’m going to tell them. It’s none of their business, and yet part of me really wants to tell them. I think about what Dante said. “I’m going to tell everyone you’re my boyfriend.” I think of my dad saying, “Dante didn’t run.” I think of how proud I am to have such an amazing, charismatic, beautiful human in love with me.

I stop walking and so do they. I look at them. They look at me.

“I’m in love,” I say, and I can feel myself blushing. I don’t look away, though. Instead I smile.

They’re immediately both squealing, which makes me almost regret telling them. I roll my eyes and start walking again. They’re right there, though, a girl clinging to either arm, and a couple of guys we pass give me the stink eye. It’s no wonder; they’re both really pretty, and they’re hanging all over me right now. I laugh out loud at the sheer irony of it. 

“Oh my God, it’s Dante, isn’t it?” Gina is gushing, and Susie’s still just squealing. I laugh again, because honestly I’m just so  _ happy _ . 

“Ari, I love your laugh!” Susie cries. 

They’re sweet girls, really. 

I pull my arms out of theirs and turn around and walk backwards, like Dante did earlier. I’m grinning because I can’t help it.

“It’s Dante,” I confirm. They both erupt into squeals again and I roll my eyes, but not in a mean way. 

“We knew it,” Gina said, and Susie nods adamantly. “No one jumps in front of a car for someone they don’t love.”

It actually doesn’t bother me that she says that, which is a pleasant surprise. It doesn’t bother me when Dante brings up the accident now, either. I’m starting to understand something about why I didn’t want to talk about it before. The accident was living proof that I was in love with him. My broken leg. That infernal wheelchair. Everyone going on and on about how I was a hero. It made it very hard to keep denying what I felt. It was exhausting.

“Also, he’s very good looking,” Susie adds, and it’s Gina’s turn to nod enthusiastically. 

“God, he is, isn’t he?” I say, and their response is so effusive it makes several people turn to stare at us. I’m laughing again. 

“Ari, I’m so happy for you!” Gina says as we enter the building. I smile at her.

“Thanks. I’m happy for me, too,” I say, and she looks at me so sweetly I almost want to hug her.

“This is me,” Susie says, stopping at a classroom. Gina and I say, “See you later,” and it’s weird. In a good way. 

I think they might be my friends.

  
  


When I pull up to Cathedral, Dante is on the front steps by himself, reading. I watch him sitting there, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and marvel all over again at how lucky I am. Because in a minute he’s going to be in this truck with me and I’m going to be kissing his face off. 

He must feel my gaze, because he looks up, already smiling. His smile is so infectious. Full of big white teeth and sunshine. He’s grinning at me, and I’m grinning back. He’s a sight for sore eyes. Not that my eyes are particularly sore, so to speak. It’s been a good day, actually.

Turns out I have second period with Susie, and lunch with both the girls. When I walked into second period and saw Susie sitting there, I took the desk next to her. She acted like it was the most normal thing in the world, which I really appreciated. She just started talking, like we sat next to each other and chatted every day. First she talked about her first period teacher and then somehow she smoothly transitioned to talking about her dog, which led me to bring up Legs and what a great dog she is. Then I was telling her about how I go running every morning, and how I’d run by Dante’s house the day I knew he was getting back from Chicago, and her eyes got all starry.

“I don’t know if you know this, Ari, but when you talk about Dante you light up like a Christmas tree.” That was a pretty dumb thing to say, but I didn’t mind. I _ felt  _ like a fucking Christmas tree whenever I thought about Dante. I felt like I was glowing and special and surrounded with joy. 

I smiled at her. “He’s the coolest guy in the universe,” I said, well aware of how corny I sounded, and thankfully she didn’t squeal. She did sigh this sort of ridiculous dreamy sigh, but again, I didn’t mind. The fact that my life could make someone sigh like that was nothing short of a miracle. Me. Aristotle Mendoza. With a dreamy-sigh-worthy life.

God, I missed Dante. I couldn’t wait to see him.

And now I’m seeing him, and he’s seeing me, and we just kind of stare at each other for a minute, like we did that day he got home from Chicago. Then he gets up, almost in slow motion, and walks over to the truck.

“I missed you,” we say in unison, and then we dissolve into laughter. 

  
  



	6. camping (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First night of camping. Warning: there's hurt/comfort in this chapter. All very lovey of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updating. I became debilitatingly obsessed with The Raven Cycle and lost my mind for a while.
> 
> I have no idea if there are cicadas in Texas, but we sure do have them in North Carolina and when I sit on my back patio at twilight, they’re so loud it’s overwhelming. I was hearing them out my window when I wrote this. Hence the reference. (I hope everyone has them everywhere. Their sound, while truly overwhelming, is lovely.)
> 
> Also I got inspired by Alex calling Henry "sweetheart" and “baby” in RWRB. Hope it works here ;)

ARI

We find a campsite pretty easily. The cool thing about the campsites in the national forest is that they are spread way out and very natural. No next-door neighbors, no concrete slabs. Just a cleared out space on the forest floor and a campfire ring. The river runs all along behind them, so if you need to bathe or swim or get water, there it is. But you can pull your vehicle right up to it, so no hiking out is required. It’s really perfect. As Dante and I set up the tent we brought, I get to thinking that camping with him could become a regular thing. 

We don’t really intend to sleep in the tent, but it still seems wise to have one in case we want shelter other than the cab of the truck. It’s just a little two-person tent, very cozy. The minute we get it set up, he’s crawling inside. I get a fantastic view of his rear, and as a guy newly embracing my homosexuality I’m here for it. I don’t even blush. I do, however, crawl in after him as quickly as I can and start kissing him before he’s fully sat down.

As always, he kisses me back. I fucking love that about Dante. He  _ always  _ kisses me back. It’s super validating.

I mean, that guy really does love me. It’s obvious. And he’s the smartest, coolest, sexiest guy in the entire universe. 

I can’t believe how lucky I am. 

Anyway, we kiss for a while, and it’s this totally chaste thing. We’ve gotten into taking each other’s clothes off these days (let me just interrupt myself to say that his body is to die for. He seems to be all about  _ my  _ body, because he’s constantly telling me how hot I am, but his body is absolutely perfect. He’s long and lean and super strong from all the swimming. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen), but this time we don’t do anything like that. We just kiss, really gently, really slowly, in our tiny little tent. When I finally pull away, he has tears in his eyes. And honestly, I do, too. 

Loving him has brought a whole new comprehension of the word “romantic.” I always thought “romantic” was this cheesy bullshit concept cooked up by greeting-card companies, but it’s not. I mean, it is, I guess, sometimes, if all it means to someone is flowers and smiles and saying empty pretty words. But “romantic” between me and Dante is about a connection that runs so deep it’s like it was always there, even before we met. Sometimes there are moments that the connection is just so raw, so unfiltered. Almost tangible in its power. That’s what the word “romantic” means to me now. 

I can’t help it. I lean in and kiss him some more. How can I not? His face is right there, his pupils dilated, his lips swollen from kissing. Utterly breathtaking.

God, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we never got together. If I kept pushing him away, past his breaking point. Or if his breaking point had come earlier. What would our lives have been like, going on for years and years, into old age, without each other? Something always would have been missing. Broken. An empty hole I would have always just thought was part of who I was. I would have accepted it. Lived with it. Died with it. 

It makes me feel sick to think about, and the only thing that makes the sickness better is to pull him tighter to me, clutch him closer, kiss him deeper. Make up for the “almost” that would have been a pure tragedy.

He pulls away a little, which kind of freaks me out. He’s never pulled away while we were kissing. He said he never would. But it doesn’t feel like a rejection because he stays close, holding my face in his hands, pressing his forehead to mine. 

“What is it, Ari?” he whispers against my lips. “What is your head doing right now?” 

I can’t answer. The lump in my throat is too big to let words pass. I just kiss him again, desperately, and he kisses me back for a long time. Until my jaw is sore. And I think I’ll just kiss him forever because it’s the only thing that’s holding me together. I’m not good with emotions; I always blocked them out. Often to my detriment, I admit. Sometimes I blocked them out and ended up beating the shit out of someone because of it. Sometimes I blocked them out and lived in loneliness and silence. I’m not saying blocking them out was good, but it’s what I’m used to. What I know how to do. It’s my comfort zone. Recently, they’ve been flowing freely, and it’s been scary, but  _ good.  _ But right now, this is too much. I can’t handle the terror that’s washing through me when I think of what I almost let happen.

He pulls away again, and I clutch at him because it feels dangerous to me when he does that. “You said you’d never stop kissing me,” I say, and I hear my voice break and that’s when I realize I have tears on my cheeks. A lot of them. They’ve dripped onto my arms, onto his arms. I wonder when they started.

“I know, love. I’m not stopping kissing you. I’m giving you space to catch me up, because your kisses are trying to tell me something, and I don’t know what it is. You’ve never kissed me so hard and cried so hard all at once,” he whispers, his hands comforting on my face. “Tell me what you’re thinking, sweetheart.” He’s cashing in on my promise to tell him what I’m thinking, but it doesn’t feel like a demand. It feels like a relief.

And I’ll tell him, because I know he’s not going to judge me, or make me feel like an idiot, or leave. That’s why I made that promise to begin with. Because he loves me  _ that much.  _

And that’s what I almost gave away.

I still can’t speak, though, because I’m crying so hard. I pull him to me and sob into his shoulder, and he holds me tight. So tight I can hardly breathe, and that’s good. That’s how hard I need to be held. 

  
  


DANTE

I’m not sure what’s going on with Ari, though I have my suspicions. I think he’s experiencing something akin to what I experienced at the café the other night, when I thought I’d almost destroyed everything between us by trying to end our friendship out of desperation. I don’t know how I know that, but I know him, and I know us, and I’m pretty sure I’m right.

I hold him while he sobs on my shoulder, and it sounds twisted to say but I feel so damn lucky. This guy has never been so real with anyone in his life. I’m sure of it. I don’t think he’s ever let himself cry in someone’s arms - not even his mom’s or dad’s. But this is the second time he’s let me hold him why he cries, and the significance of that isn’t lost on me. 

I stroke his hair and nuzzle my nose in it and kiss his head. I rub his back. I whisper “I love you,” over and over, not to comfort him, but because I can’t help myself. Because I  _ do  _ love him, more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone. More than my parents, who I’m crazy about. More than swimming. More than myself. I feel like I’m made of love for him. Like it’s the deepest part of who I am. I’m Dante Quintana: I’m tall, I’m a swimmer, I’m gay, I’m outgoing, I’m a reader and a thinker and a painter. But more than any of that, I am love for Aristotle Mendoza.

Eventually his sobs fizzle out, and he just clings to me, his hands fisted in my shirt. I keep stroking his back, kissing his hair. Twilight is settling in, and I can hear the cicadas outside the tent, their noise rising to a crescendo that’s so loud it’s almost deafening, then fading away into momentary quiet, then rising again. A symphony of the forest. When he finally speaks, I can hardly hear his voice over the sound of them.

“I’m so scared, Dante. I’m so scared that I almost threw this away. I don’t know how I could have lived my life without you.”

Ah. So I was right. I push both my hands into his hair and pull his face away enough so I can look into it. His eyes are red and puffy, his face streaked with teartracks. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. 

“You wouldn’t have,” I whisper, and even though the cicadas are screaming at us, I can tell by his eyes that he hears me. I kiss his forehead, his eyebrows, his cheeks. “I don’t think you understand the depth of my persistence. I would not have let you get away, no matter how hard you pushed.” 

“But you did,” he counters immediately. “You had reached your limit. You were ready to be done. I mean, I say I wouldn’t have let it happen, but if you really were through me, what could I do?”

His perfect face crumples again, just for a moment, and he whispers, “What could I do?” 

I’m already shaking my head. “I told you, Ari. I would’ve been calling you again in three days. I wasn’t saying that to be funny. I meant it.” I kiss his face again, and he nuzzles into my kisses like a cat. “Everything we’ve experienced so far feels like...like the whole world.” He nods in agreement. “But it’s not, baby. It’s only the beginning. All of this, so far...it’s only been the beginning.” His gaze holds mine, and I don’t look away. I don’t even blink. I need him to understand. “Life is long, and you’re stuck with me, Ari. It’s written in the stars.” I kiss him. “Every parallel reality has us together. It’s the  _ only _ reality.” 

  


We make a campfire. Even though it’s dark out when we finally crawl out of the tent, the moon and stars are bright enough that we can see what we’re doing. Fortunately Ari was smart enough to bring a bunch of firewood in the back of the truck, otherwise we’d have been hunting around for it with flashlights. We’ll have to gather more tomorrow, but we’ll have the whole day.

The whole day. I’ll have the whole day alone with Ari, with nothing to do but just be with him. I can’t believe how lucky I am. 

“Happy birthday, by the way,” I say, spreading a blanket on the ground in front of the fire. He’s crouching, poking the fire with a stick, moving logs carefully to strengthen the blaze. He glances  over at me and grins in the firelight. I’m happy to see that smile after how agonized he was looking earlier. 

“It sure is,” he says. 

I grin back at him and hop up in the truck to get the cooler. I’m suddenly starving. 

He watches me as I slowly unpack dinner things from the cooler by the firelight, laying them out on a milk crate with a slab of plywood laid across the top that we brought to be a makeshift table. There are thin-sliced chicken breasts wrapped in tin foil with hot peppers. Black bean and corn salsa, avocados, a chunk of soft pepperjack cheese. The second night we’ll be having hot dogs, but for the first night I did a lot of food prep so we could eat a really nice birthday meal. I even have a huge slab of chocolate cake I got from the bakery hidden away to surprise him. 

While I slice the avocado and the cheese, he crawls over and sits behind me, his chin on my shoulder, his fingertips running up and down my thighs. We don’t talk. We’re both in our own world, but we’re also completely, utterly united. I turn my head and kiss his cheek. 

“I’m stupid in love with you,” I murmur, and he responds by kissing  _ my  _ cheek. 

“I know.” 

I elbow him and we both laugh. 

  


A couple of hours later, we’re lying by the dwindling fire. I can’t stop staring at the embers, the way they each glow with their own unique transition between red and orange and black. The moon is straight above us, just a big white ball hanging in the sky, and the stars are peeking through the leaves. (This place is very unlike the desert.) Ari took my hand a while ago and has been holding it steadily, rubbing his thumb on the back of it sometimes. I feel full from the dinner and the cake and the fact that my greatest dream has come true. It makes me believe in all my other dreams. I mean, if I can land the most detached, disinterested, unhappy, antisocial guy in the world, what  _ can’t _ I do? Everything else seems trivial. Connecting with Ari Mendoza was something no one, ever, had been able to do. But I did it. 

I feel like I can do anything. 

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him, because we’ve been quietly watching the treetops silhouetted against the stars for so long. I turn my head to the side in time to see him smile, his face lit up by the glow of the fire.

“Right then? I was remembering the best friend interview you gave me that time. When you spent the afternoon pelting me with questions.”

I smile, too. “You answered all of them.”

He turns his head to meet my eyes. “They were easy questions.” We stare at each other for a minute. I can sense that he’s got more to say, so I wait. After a bit, I’m rewarded. “You should ask me some harder questions.”

“You already got the position of best friend,” I point out. “Further interviews are not required.”

He huffs out a laugh, but he gives me a look. “Wouldn’t you  _ like _ to ask me some harder questions, Dante?” 

I grin at him, the warmth inside me bubbling over. He knows me too well. 

“Okay,” I concede, rolling over onto my side. I have to pull my hand out of his so I can prop my head up on it. He follows my lead, rolling over onto his side so that we’re facing each other. Our bodies are very close together. We’re almost - but not quite - pressed against each other. Our hands find their way to one another’s waists. “What’s something you want to do that you haven’t done before?”

I watch him thinking, going over something in his head. Then, slowly, he says, “I think I want to write to Bernardo.”

“You haven’t written to him before?”

“Never. He was so off-limits, you know. I didn’t even know  _ where _ to write to him. I didn’t know where he was. And no one would have told me. Not my parents. Not my sisters.” He is tracing patterns on my side, running his fingertips between my ribs and my hips without noticing what he’s doing. I love that I’m that comfortable to him. 

“But you can ask, now, and find out,” I suggest, and he nods. “What do you think you’ll say to him, Ari?”

“I don’t know.” He looks past me, over my shoulder, into the night. After a minute he says, “I want to tell him about you. But I don’t know how he’ll react. One of the people he killed, well. He killed them because they were a guy dressed as a girl.” That makes my blood run cold. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t lead with your gayness,” I suggest, not meaning to be funny, but he laughs anyway. 

“I should, though, Dante. For one thing, you’re the most important story of my life. I don’t feel like I can talk about who I am without talking about you, too.” 

No one can melt my heart like Ari can.

“But also, if he’s going to have a problem with us, well. I may as well find out right off the bat, you know? So I don’t waste my time and get my hopes up.”

“Good point,” I say. “I guess it’s not like you’ve got a lot to lose. Since you don’t have a relationship with him now, I mean.”

“Exactly.” Ari nods pensively. “But even if I did. Even if I stood to lose everything, I’d still want to tell him. I spent over a year of my life denying the fact that you were the most important thing in the world to me.” His face is so close, his eyes so wide and open. “I’m never going to minimize your importance to me again.” I hold his gaze, despite the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. After a minute, he grins. “My turn.”

“Your turn for what, Ari?”

“My turn to ask you a hard question.” I don’t object, and his eyes are dancing as he watches my face. “When was the first time you realized you loved me?”

I can’t help the smile that lights up my face, both because I know the answer and also because he is so sure of my love that he can ask that. Ari has doubted the world for a long time, and knowing he doesn’t doubt _ me  _ makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst. 

“The night we went to the desert, with my parents. To look through the telescope,” I say.

He smiles. “I remember.”

“It was when we were in the backyard later. We’d been lying there talking, and then we just got quiet, but neither of us was asleep. And I thought to myself, this is the first person I’ve ever felt totally comfortable being silent with. And then I thought, I love him.” Ari is watching me intently, hanging on my every word. “It wasn’t like a big monumental thing, though. The thought just came, and as soon as it did, I knew it was true. It didn’t even surprise me.”

“So you already knew you were gay?”

I smile at him. “Yeah, I knew. But it terrified me. I felt really alone with it, and really scared of what would happen if I ever told anyone. I was really hoping I’d at least be bi, and could just stick with girls and not cause myself all the drama I knew would come from liking guys. As if one can control who they fall for.” I roll my eyes and laugh at myself. He’s still looking at me intently. “And then you came along and threw a monkey wrench in the whole plan.” I laugh again. He doesn’t. His brow creases. 

“It must have taken so much courage to admit it to me,” he says quietly. 

My laughter fades because he’s right. “It did,” I say, slowly. “Honestly, Ari. I can’t ever thank you enough for not turning your back on me right then. So many guys in that situation would have. And if you had, I feel like it would have broken my confidence for the rest of my life.”

“It wouldn’t have,” he says immediately. “Nothing can break you, Dante. Not for the long term.” Finally, he looks away. “And you shouldn’t thank me. I told you not to say it.”

“Yeah, you told me not to say it. But you didn’t tell me there was something wrong with me. You didn’t act disgusted and you didn’t stop being my friend.” I lift my hand to touch his face and turn it back towards mine. “There was more hinging on that moment than you realized. I knew I might lose you, and I was in love with you, so that was the scariest thing I could imagine.” I look up at the stars for a moment. “The scariest thing. But I had to do it. It was a weird kind of circle. I couldn’t keep being your best friend if I didn’t tell you, because then you wouldn’t really know me, and what kind of best-friendship is that? But if I told you, I might lose you, and...well. It just seemed like the first option guaranteed a shallow relationship, and the second option ran a higher risk but also a greater possible reward.” His hand on my body has gone still, curving gently around my waist. “It was pretty fucking terrifying, though.”

“You kept asking me if we’d still be friends. Even when you got back from Chicago.”

I shrug the shoulder that isn’t supporting me. “Well, yeah. Like I said. Most guys wouldn’t be cool with their best friend saying hey bro, guess what, I’m in love with you because I’m a big queer.” 

Ari is studying me with his dark eyes, and I feel raw. Vulnerable in a way I don’t often feel. After a moment he leans in and kisses me, briefly but so gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t write to you more when you were in Chicago. I was a selfish punk.”

“You did the best you could at the time,” I say. 

“I was shattered, the day you left. I remember sitting on the porch with my parents, and it was raining, and I felt like my world was ending.” 

“Let’s never do that again, okay?” I whisper. His hand starts up again, stroking my side. 

“Do what, Dante?”

“Separate.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

“I really do want to marry you.” He sounds so earnest, and right then it’s like I’m propelled by a force larger than myself. I roll over on top of him, rolling him onto his back in the process, and kiss him and kiss him and nuzzle my face into his neck until he’s laughing.

“Yes yes yes yes. Is that an official proposal? Because yes.” I lift up enough to look into his eyes. “I really do want to marry you, too, Aristotle Mendoza.”

He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him look. “Who says I have to be the one to propose?” he cries, but his eyes are dancing and his smile is so big. 

“You definitely have to be the one to propose, Ari. I told you I loved you first. I kissed you first.” I cock an eyebrow at him. “You, propose.” 

I can feel the muscles in his stomach constricting against mine as he laughs freely. “What if I make the first move sexually? Would that balance it out?”

My stomach flips over and a little fire lights inside of me. I start to object, just to keep playing this ridiculously fun game we’ve found ourselves in, then stop myself and think about it for a second. Mostly just because I want to think about it, knowing  _ he’s _ thinking about it. Just the knowledge that we’re both thinking about having sex with each other seems illicit, in and of itself. 

Then I grin at him. “Nope. That would just be one first, for my two.”

“I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”

We both erupt into laughter again. Into _ our  _ laughter, the uncontrollable kind neither of us has ever experienced with anyone else. I collapse my full weight on top of him and laugh into his neck. 

Once we calm down a little, I lift my head to look at him. “Seriously, though, Ari. You don’t have to be the one to propose, but you do have to be the one to make the first move sexually.” He nods, his eyes wide and understanding. “I told you I’m ready whenever you are, but I’m not going to push you. So you’ve gotta let me know when you’re ready, okay?” He takes a deep breath - I can feel it in his whole body underneath me - and nods. “Rest assured, whenever you make a move, you won’t get rejected.” He laughs, then, breaking the tension. I laugh too, because I’m so damn happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK dear readers, I need feedback. Do we want them to have sex of some sort in this fic? OG readers know I had it in the first one, then took it out. I am torn because I feel like they would, at this point in their relationship - I mean they know each other so well, and they're so in love. And also I looked it up and seventeen is legal in Texas and as of today (in the fic), they're both seventeen. But I feel weird about it for some reason, mainly because I'm an adult (technically anyway lol) and I know some of my readers are pretty young, and I don't want to make things weird for anybody. So if you have an opinion either way, lmk in the comments (or dm me on Tumblr). (If it happens it won't be ~~smut~~ pwp - it'll be more about the emotions...)


	7. birthday surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari's birthday surprise is actually a surprise for Dante. 
> 
> I hope y'all meant it when you said you wanted (awkward playful lovey) smut...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up the moment chapter 6 left off (and may be my longest chapter yet!).
> 
> Fair warning: this chapter has (some kinds of) sex in it. Several times. And while it also has a lot of thinking/reflecting/conversation in it, it's not necessary for the story as a whole, so feel free to skip it if sex is not your thing.

ARI

I watch Dante laugh, stunned as always by how beautiful he is when he does it. He exudes light all the time, but when he laughs, I swear the actual air around us gets brighter.

Damn, I’m whipped. 

My head is full of thoughts. And images. And imagined sounds. Because he just said he needed me to let him know when I’m ready to have sex, and he has no idea that the whole point of this camping trip was to get him completely alone so we could do just that. Or something like that, anyway. More than we’ve done before. 

It  _ is  _ my birthday, after all. 

I knew it when we were in my basement last weekend, when I was lifting weights and I asked him to go camping with me. When he said he was thinking about having sex with me but he didn’t want to rush me, I wanted so badly to tell him right then. But I wanted it to be a surprise more. 

The thing is, when I told him I wasn’t ready, it wasn’t because I needed tons of time. I just needed to get settled into my new reality. I mean, it was a lot to take in all at once. Admitting to myself that I’m gay  _ and  _ starting my first (and last) intense, committed relationship  _ and  _ forcing myself to be honest and to talk about my feelings. It was all good (glorious) stuff, but it was a lot of new. And I hadn’t even masturbated before, so I had some catching up to do. 

Suffice it to say I’m all caught up now. Beyond caught up. Honestly, the first time I actually let myself fantasize about him, I knew I was ready to have sex with him. Even in my head, it just felt  _ right.  _ And good lord, I have all kinds of things I want to do that boy. I had no idea how...well, how  _ gay _ I was, until I started letting my imagination run free. 

And it’s actually quite amazing how settled I feel with everything. I mean, I guess it shouldn’t be that amazing. He’s  _ Dante.  _ My best friend. He’s like the part of me I’d never known was missing, and now that it’s in place, I’m actually much more comfortable and settled and secure than I’ve ever been.

And now he’s on top of me, looking into my face so sweetly, so earnestly, telling me to let him know when I’m ready. I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face.

“Actually,” I start, and then I kind of have to catch my breath because as much as I want to do this, it’s kind of a big deal. It’ll change...something. Of course it will. I have complete faith it will only make this amazing thing even better, but it’s still scary. He raises his eyebrows in question and waits. He’s so great about that. He always lets me take my time.

I try again. “Actually, about that...” but then my words fail me. I see something in his eyes shift just the tiniest bit. I don’t even think he knows it happens, but I know him so well, I can  _ see  _ what he’s thinking. He’s thinking I’m going to tell him it’s going to be years or something. I watch him preparing himself for anything and my heart fills to bursting. Because he’d stay with me if I said that. I know this without a doubt. He’d stay with me anyway. 

It’s the greatest gift in the world, his love. 

He rolls off me and props his head up on his hand and looks at my face. “About that,” I say again, and the more times I try to say the words, the harder they get to articulate. But he’s clearly freaking out in his head so I have to push through, to stop his worry. 

So I tell him in my language. I put my hand on his waist, like it had been a few minutes ago, and then I let my fingertips trail down and over his hip. I flatten my palm against his side, this time underneath his shirt, pushing it up so his skin is exposed. And then back down, letting my fingertips dip beneath the waistband of his jeans  _ and  _ his boxers. I raise up enough that my lips can reach his body and I trail my lips along his side.

“Oh,” he breathes, and I smile against his skin and slide my hand further into his boxers. His sharp intake of breath makes me catch my own, because it’s such a giddy rush to be able to do that to him. To make him gasp, just from my touch. 

He rolls over onto his back, silent and reverent. He threads his fingers into my hair, so I let my mouth roam over his ribs and his belly while I use my free hand to make short work of his fly. Then I grab his shirt and pull it right over his head, and for the first time when I take off his jeans I pull his boxers off with them. And then he’s lying there in the starlight, staring up at me, completely exposed and breathtakingly beautiful. I take a minute to just let myself look, and then, because he seems like he’s about to hyperventilate, I put my hands on his hips, his skin warm and smooth, and I kiss his belly and his solar plexus and then I whisper, “Breathe, Dante” before I kiss him. 

He sighs into my mouth and kisses me back full-force. I hover just above him, sitting up only long enough to let him pull my shirt off. When I lean back over him, I only kiss his mouth briefly before moving my lips to his neck. His hands are at my belt buckle, my fly, and then suddenly he’s got full access and when he slides his hand all the way into my trunks without any of the hesitation that I’d had, I smile against his neck because I know he’s been ready for this for so long, and I’m so happy to be finally giving it to him, and…

...and then I gasp and a strange little whimper comes out of me because he’s touching me in a way no one ever has. In a way  _ I  _ hadn’t even done until very recently. 

It takes me a minute to process everything that’s flooding through me, and I guess I’m frozen in place for a little too long because his hand stops moving and his other hand is on my jaw, urging my face up so I can look at him. 

“Okay?” he breathes, and I can see how much he didn’t want to stop, and how worried he is. I can actually feel him trembling. I start shaking my head because it’s not enough, what he’s doing is not enough, I want more of him. I want  _ all  _ of him. But not yet. I’m just confused. Confused in a good way. But he obviously thinks it’s in a bad way, because he takes his hand away.

I actually start laughing, then, because it’s just such a completely ridiculous moment. I’m so turned on, and I’m intensely nervous now that we’re actually doing this, and my already faulty communication skills have flown away so I don’t know how to tell him any of this. His eyes become very concerned and his mouth quirks up tentatively, like he wants in on the joke but is not sure whether I’ve completely gone around the bend.

“Fuck, Dante,” I finally manage. “I just…” I actually sit up, careful not to put too much of my weight on him, and when I do. I shrug one shoulder, feeling a bit helpless. “I told you I’d be shit at this.” 

He’s just looking at me, a million emotions playing across his face. I inhale, deeply, trying to calm my heart rate by sheer will, and look him straight in the eye.

“I didn’t want you to stop. It just felt so good I couldn’t move. Or speak.” I huff out a breath. “And I’m a little nervous.” Relief and adoration spread across his perfect face, and it’s a glorious sight. “There’s nothing you could do to me that I don’t want, so just…” I drop back over him, press my nose to his. “Don’t stop.” 

“Really, Ari?” he asks, sounding amused and skeptical.  _ “Nothing _ I could do to you that you don’t want? Because, I mean, I’ve had a long time to come up with things I want to do to you...” He lifts an eyebrow lasciviously and I laugh.

“Okay,” I amend. “I’ll tell you if it starts going too far. And you do the same, okay?”

He smiles his sunshine smile and nods. “Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs, wrapping his hand back around me. “It’s just me,” and then he resumes kissing me and touching me, and I kiss him and touch him back, and every time he gasps or squeaks (which is so adorable I think my heart will explode every time) or lets out a moan, I take note, and in this way I learn things about Dante I’ve never known. 

Things no one’s ever known. Things only I will ever know. It’s a thrill.

“Definitely one of my better birthdays,” I say, much later, as we hold each other under the stars. He stares at me for just a beat and then dissolves into laughter. There’s something about it - about the way he’s laughing - that’s different from how he’s ever sounded. His laugh is always beautiful, but right now it’s more free and boundless than ever. It’s relieved. It’s joyful. It makes me smile so big my face hurts. 

“God, Ari,” he murmurs, covering his eyes with a hand. “You’re  _ definitely  _ not shit at that.” And then I’m laughing, too, and I think my laughter sounds as boundless and relieved as his does. 

DANTE

The sun is coming up. I can tell by how the sky is more of a pink-gray, where before it had been inky black. The stars are fading and the moon has long since disappeared. I can’t sleep, though. I can’t stop staring at Ari.  _ He’s  _ asleep, and he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. 

I keep replaying everything in my head. I don’t ever want to forget a single detail. And then I remember it won’t be the end of the world if I do - forget, I mean - because there will be more of that. An entire lifetime of it. Thinking about it makes it hard to get a breath. 

I’d read about love, of course. A million versions of it. All the books I’ve read? Yeah. I thought I knew what it was. I thought I understood it.

I’d had no idea. Not even close. 

Or maybe it’s just that it can’t be put into words. The all-encompassing, blinding, staggering, warm, delicious helplessness that it is. 

For the millionth time since he’s fallen asleep, I nuzzle my face into Ari’s neck. His arm tightens around me, just a little. He’s obviously fast asleep which means he’s doing it out of instinct. He’s unconscious and he still pulls me closer, because it’s that real, this thing between us. It’s part of who we are. And I can still taste him in my throat, smell him on my skin. I’ve gotten everything I’ve ever wanted, and this is just the beginning.

I feel like I’m going to die of happiness. 

  
  


_ The Next Morning _

ARI

I wake up because it’s fucking freezing. I haven’t been camping since I was a kid, and I either forgot this part or else was too young to notice the temperature. It’s late summer...WHY IS IT SO COLD?

Oh. Probably doesn’t help that I’m stark naked. 

And then everything comes back to me in a flood, and suddenly I’m not cold  _ at all.  _

I pull Dante closer to me, relishing the feeling of his bare skin against mine. I tuck the blanket tighter around him so  _ he’s  _ not cold. He’s still fast asleep, looking angelic and sexy and familiar, and I can’t believe what we did last night. I just look at him for a while, letting all the details play through my head on repeat. I feel incapacitated by my love for him. It’s like a tangible thing, a weight in my chest. It makes it hard to breathe. It almost  _ hurts.  _ I never had any idea I could love anyone or anything like I love him.

And then it occurs to me that it would be really nice for him to wake up to a fire and some hot cocoa (since he hates coffee). So I carefully wiggle out from under the covers, being sure they don’t slide off him in the process, and I put on all my clothes from last night plus a sweatshirt I scrounge out of my duffel bag. I dig deeper and find an extra sweater I’d brought, and I put it on, too. Just to warm it up, so I can give it to him when he wakes up. Since it’s so UNGODLY COLD out here. 

Then I rearrange what’s left of the charred wood in the fire pit, throw the last two pieces of wood I’d brought on top, and light it up. 

Within a few minutes a small fire is blazing, and it’s nice to sit by it in the golden-pink morning light and think about things. 

I make myself instant coffee, but I don’t make his cocoa yet. He likes to sleep in, and we didn’t go to sleep until very,  _ very  _ late (I smile thinking about it), so he’ll probably be asleep for a while.

I let my mind wander. It’s such a new sensation, to let it wander freely without shutting down thought after thought after thought. Not that I’d really realized I was doing that before, but I was. I definitely was. 

I did it every time I thought about Dante, really. Now that I can reflect on it, how many times did I think of his face as perfect, back that first summer? Why did I never wonder about that? 

And why didn’t I wonder about why I’d jumped in front of moving car to save him? I mean, sure, it’s the decent thing to do and all, but would I have done it for a stranger? Would I have even done it for my mom, or dad, or one of my sisters? I can’t say for sure. I’d like to think so. But I don’t know if I would have, because honestly it was an automatic reaction. I didn’t think about it at all. My body moved of its own volition. That should have told me something. Especially with every damn hospital employee on staff teasing me about it (not to mention Gina and Susie).

Gina and Susie. What a happy surprise they’ve been. I think I actually like them. I should ask them to hang out with Dante and me, because they definitely like  _ me,  _ and Dante likes everybody. 

Ugh. Even Daniel. What the hell did he see in Daniel? If I force myself to separate my emotions from the situation, I can grudgingly admit that he’s pretty hot. And I guess Dante was really, really interested in making out with a guy. I mean, he’s such an affectionate person. He loves people and he loves kissing. And he was so curious and eager to explore his homosexuality, and his sexuality in general, and here was this hot guy throwing himself at him. (I don’t know if Daniel actually threw himself at Dante, but he’d have been crazy not to. I mean, Dante’s so goddamn beautiful and charismatic and smart and sweet.) It still makes me sick to my stomach to think about, though.

But then I glance over at Dante, still fast asleep, his mouth a little open and his short hair sticking up all over the place, cocooned in my comforter, and I think about the things we did to each other last night and I can’t help but smirk a little. Daniel will never get  _ that.  _

So right, back to Dante. That’s where this all started, and he’s my favorite topic anyway. Dante and why I didn’t clue in that I was in love with him. 

I remember walking in the rain with him that time, when we both promised not to run. I’ve been thinking about this recently. I remember feeling like I’d never done it before. Walk barefoot in the rain, I mean. It felt like the first time. That was weird. I mean, that’s a weird thing to just think when you’re walking along with your pal. Why didn’t I notice how weird it was? 

God, I was so deep in denial, it’s truly a miracle I ever emerged.

I need to remember to hug my parents when I get home.

The fire is starting to die down, so I get up to find some firewood. Everything is still a little dewey, but it hasn’t rained for a while so thankfully the branches and logs are dry on the inside. I find the biggest pieces I can carry and lug them back to the firepit and put them around the edges so the dew will dry up before I toss them on. Then I go back to watching Dante. I think about our first kiss, in his room that time. God, my heart was racing. My whole body was responding, really. If I had let it go on any longer, I wouldn’t have been able to stop. All I wanted was to pull him against me and kiss him deeper. I knew that, that’s the thing. It was too real, too physical, too based in feeling for me to be able to deny the accompanying thoughts right away. That’s why I’d been mad at him. I mean, why else would I have been mad? I participated. I kissed him back. There was no reason to be  _ mad  _ about anything. But I was, because I had to do some serious backtracking in my head to get back to my normal state of denial. 

God, I was an idiot. And suddenly, I just need to be next to him. So I mix up some hot cocoa and leave it sitting on one of the big rocks surrounding the fire pit, so it stays warm, and I place my new firewood onto the blaze and blow on it until it’s roaring again, and then I go slither under the covers with him. He responds immediately, as though he was waiting for me even as he slept. He twines his arms around my neck and tucks his head under my chin and sighs. I pull him tight against me and kiss his head and he stirs. He inhales, slowly, deeply, and lifts his head and blinks at me. 

I’m pretty sure that every morning we wake up, he remembers everything anew. I mean, I do too. There’s always that moment in waking up when you remember you’re a person, and then you remember which person you are, and then you real quick run through your reality like it’s a checklist and when everything falls into place, that’s when you’re fully awake. Usually it happens so fast it’s not conscious, like it did for me this morning. Usually it’s just a momentary shift from sleep-to-wake and then you’re right back where you left off when you fell asleep. But even then, it’s a process, and it happens every day. I know this because of the days everything didn’t fall into place. Like the first day I woke up after Dante had left for Chicago. Or the day I woke up and remembered he was in the hospital because he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. Or every day I’d ever woken up and we were in a fight (read: I was being a punk, because he’d never given me the silent treatment. That was all me), and I couldn’t call him first thing and see what he was doing that day.

Those days, I was acutely aware of the reality-checklist, because not all the boxes got checked, and my stomach would drop when I realized it. Those were the worst moments of my life.

Anyway, having watched him wake up quite a few times now, I think he does his own version of the same thing. I can actually watch him re-entering reality. I love it.

Today is no different. He’s blinking at me, looking a little confused (probably because we’re in the middle of the forest) and a little ecstatic (probably because he’s in the middle of a forest with me, and for some unfathomable reason being anywhere with me is his dream come true) (I’m the luckiest guy alive I swear), and a little happy (because of the fire, no doubt. I’d have been happy if there was a fire when I woke up, just saying). 

“I made you cocoa,” I say.

“I love you,” he says back. And he’s not even saying it because of the cocoa. He’s saying it because he’s just re-entered reality and fully comprehended that we’re here, alone, together, together, together. And he’s exactly where he wants to be. Which is anywhere with me.

It’s impossible, I know. But I swear it’s true. If you could see his face right now you would know.

If there’s a better waking-up story than this, I don’t want to hear it, because I can barely handle this one. I can barely handle the miracle that is my life now. I don’t even know what to _ do  _ with it, with the happiness that floods me sometimes, but his persistence in making it a reality is forcing me to accept it. I’ve been afraid of being happy for a long time, that’s the truth of it. I would have probably continued to keep myself from being happy for the rest of my life, but he’s not going to allow it, so I’m just going to have to figure out how to accept it. How to accept happiness.

Like now. I feel a little drunk just from looking at his face. 

“I love you, too, sleepyhead,” I say, and then I crawl out from under the covers and fetch his cocoa and hold it out for him. He sits up, the covers falling off him (God his body is gorgeous) and shivers. 

“Why is it cold? It’s still summer!” he cries in that adorable high-pitched voice he gets when he’s affronted. I laugh and set the cocoa down for a second so I can pull the sweater off and hand it to him. 

“I’m not going to take your sweater, Ari,” he says, but I keep holding it out to him.

“I put it on to warm it up for you. It’s for you,” I say, simply, and I feel a little embarrassed because God, I sound like a sap. But the look he gives me is worth all the embarrassment in the world. 

He pulls on the sweater and takes the proffered cocoa and says, “You’re too good to me.”

“No such thing.”

He sips the cocoa and looks up at me, his eyes still drowsy. 

“I’m not used to being this happy,” he whispers.

DANTE

By the time I wake up, feeling warm and snuggly in Ari’s arms, there’s a fire blazing and a warm sweater that smells like him and a cup of cocoa ready for me. 

My life is a dream come true.

I’m an optimistic guy, but even in my brightest moments I never let myself believe my life could be like  _ this.  _ I never let myself hope that Ari Mendoza would be so affectionate and demonstrative and thoughtful and...sexual. 

I look at him while I relive last night in my head. I can’t believe how lucky I am. 

I’m used to being happy, in a way. I mean, the world is beautiful, and people are fun, and there are books and rainstorms and birds to appreciate. 

But I’ve never experienced anything like what I experience when Ari is being snuggly and sweet and sexy. It floods through me and makes my heart skip a beat, so when I tell him “I’m not used to being this happy,” all I can do is whisper. 

We spend the day frolicking. There’s really no better word for it. The cold morning transitions to a hot afternoon, so after some sandwiches and fruit, we put on swimsuits and sneakers and go hiking through the woods. Before long there’s the unmistakable sound of a waterfall in the distance, so we keep heading towards that, just talking and being quiet and sometimes stopping to make out against a tree. Eventually we find the waterfall, and it’s surprisingly big. I take off, climbing rocks to see if there’s a ledge or a cave or anything behind it, and Ari’s right behind me. No cave, but there is a nice solid ledge jutting out from the rock wall that’s several feet wide, so we clamber up, being careful not to slip, and as soon as we sit down, Ari’s on top of me. Literally. He pushes me back onto the damp rock and starts kissing me in that relentless way he has. The water is a white wall beside us, so it’s completely private, and I let him take my clothes off and this time all my murmurings and illicit sounds are drowned out by the roar of the water. 

“Wanna go swimming?” he asks, after he’s driven me to the edge of sanity and brought me back. I haven’t even gotten my breath yet. This boy is going to kill me. 

“Don’t you want a turn?” I ask, eyeing his suit, which isn’t a garment meant for hiding a whole lot. 

“Yeah. But later.”

“Later?” We’re kind of having to shout to be heard over the waterfall, which lends an air of surrealism to the whole experience. 

“Yeah.” He kisses me briefly. “It seems fun to wait. I’ll be wanting it all day.”

Then he’s clambering back down the rocks, and all I can do is shake my head.  _ Who knew  _ this version of him was hiding in there. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I made  _ this  _ , too. The thought makes me breathless. 

We don’t make it all day, though. Not even close. Once we’re in the water, which is oddly warm and crystal clear, we can’t keep our hands off each other. We try to swim about, but it’s like a magnetic field keeps pulling us back together. Time and again we’re twining arms and legs around each other and kissing each other blind. Eventually I reach my hand beneath the water, and loosen the tie at the waist of his suit, and watch his eyes roll back in his head. 

_ That evening _

Here’s the thing. I don’t want to do it when we’re not sober. I mean, eventually, sure. Once we’ve fooled around enough times that it doesn’t feel like such a cosmically big deal. But not yet. 

So later on, by the fire, when Ari says, “You want to drink some beer?” I hesitate. Because I do, sure. It seems fun to get tipsy with him out here in the woods. Images run through my head of us falling against each other, laughing stupidly at stuff that’s not even funny and that we won’t remember in five minutes. It seems fun. But I’m also not ready to let go of the fact that this is an unprecedented amount of alone time with him. And maybe I’m a huge perv, or maybe I’m just hopelessly in love (probably both), but I’m seriously hoping for a round three. And if we drink,  _ I’ll  _ be the one saying no. Which is not gonna happen. So here I am. 

I smile up at him. He smiles back, his eyebrows raised in question. He knows me too well. “I think it would be really fun to drink. I just…” I don’t know how to continue. I don’t want it to seem like sex is the most important thing to me. I mean, from the way he’s been since last night, I believe we’re on the same wavelength about it. But still. 

He watches me, studying my face, looking for clues about what I might say next. The scrutiny is disarming. 

Fuck it. It’s just Ari. I can tell him anything. “It’s just...just in case you might have been wanting to do more sex stuff tonight...” 

When did _ I  _ get so bad at verbal communication? 

He seems to be thinking the same thing, because he just cocks an eyebrow at me in this sort of amused and perplexed way. 

“I just don’t want to do sexual stuff once we start drinking,” I articulate. “I don’t mean never. I just mean tonight. When it’s still so new.”

He laughs then. Loudly. “Do you  _ ever  _ stop analyzing shit, Dante?” he asks. I laugh, too.

“You know me.” 

“Yeah, I do.” The tenderness in his eyes floors me. He reaches out and touches my face. Just a light brush of the fingertips down my cheek, across my jaw. His thumb traces my lower lip and I get lightheaded. Still, still, his touches make me weak. Every single time I’m blown away by how it feels to be touched by Ari Mendoza. 

“I totally respect that, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes dancing, and I melt at the endearment. “No sex after drinking until futher notice.” Then he goes to the truck, where the drink cooler is, and I try not to feel too disappointed because I assume he’s getting us beers. And that’s cool. Getting drunk with my love is its own kind of fun, and like I said. Sex is not the most important thing.

Then he reappears at my side and, without a word, hands me a Coke.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so they've got raging hormones and a year of pent-up desires, so they're admittedly unreasonably sex-obsessed now that they've crossed the line TM. Sorry not sorry. 😂 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who responded to my query last chapter! This is for you guys ;) I'm really glad you voted for sex because this was super fun to write.  
> 


	8. family dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of wholesome family fun to make up for the smutfest that was last chapter. Sylvia meets Dante. There will be Eskimo kisses and amazing birthday presents and shameless flirting.

DANTE

When we get to Ari’s house, his parents’ cars aren’t there, but there’s a car in the driveway that I’ve never seen before. 

“Who’s that?” I ask him, and I can hear how drowsy I sound. I had been almost asleep, my head on his shoulder as he drove. We hadn’t gotten much sleep this weekend, after all. (Thinking about it makes me giddy--though I will admit the giddiness might be being exacerbated by sleep deprivation.)

“My sister’s here.”

Suddenly I’m wide awake, because this is interesting. “Oh? Which one? Did you know she was coming?”

“Sylvia. And no, I didn’t. But it’s cool. You’ll get to meet her.” 

“Does she know?” I ask. I’m thinking about what he told me about Bernardo, and wondering how his sister will react to learning her baby brother has a boyfriend. 

He shrugs. “Don’t know. I haven’t told her, because I haven’t talked to her.” He shrugs again. “She’s always treated me like a child. Or a pet. I don’t really talk to her. I mean, I don’t mind her. I just don’t talk to her.” He parks the truck on the street. “My parents may have told her. Guess we’ll find out.” 

When we get inside it’s quiet. I’m not sure where his parents (or his sister) are. We take our things up to his room and he starts going through the bag to figure out what laundry to wash and what he can put back in the drawers because we didn’t wear it. (Half my clothes are in his drawers now. Half his clothes are in mine. I love it.) 

“I want some juice,” I say, stifling a yawn. I need something to perk me up. I’m so _ tired. _

“Ooh, get me some too, okay?” he asks. He’s still going through the bags. 

I jog downstairs and go into the kitchen to get the juice. I decide to look for a snack while I’m in there, which is why when Mrs. Mendoza and Sylvia come through the front door and into the kitchen, their arms full of grocery bags, I’ve got my head in the pantry. 

“Oh hi, Dante. How was the trip?” Mrs. Mendoza asks, setting the bags on the counter. 

“Exhausting. But wonderful. Do you want help?” I’ve found what I want - a package of Oreos - but I put it down in case there are more bags to carry. Sylvia is standing beside her mother, just looking at me, and I’m struck by how pretty she is. She looks so much like Ari, except older and...well, female. Her hair is really long and plaited in a loose braid down her back, and she’s got very graceful hands. I smile at her. She smiles back at me, too, but it’s tentative. 

“Thank you, dear, but this is everything.” Mrs. Mendoza starts unpacking a bag. 

“I’m Dante,” I say, walking over to Sylvia and extending my hand. She shakes it, still looking like she’s not sure what she’s seeing. 

“Sylvia,” she murmurs. Yep. Definitely sizing me up. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Mendoza says. “I forget you two have never met. It’s kind of odd to think about, really.” She smiles at me. “Dante, Sylvia. Sylvia, Dante.” 

I lean against the counter (like I said, I’m tired) and sip my juice and take an Oreo out of the package. 

“Why was it exhausting? You’re supposed to recharge on a camping trip,” Mrs. Mendoza says. She’s grinning at me in this way and, uncharacteristically, I don’t know what to say. Fortunately Ari chooses that moment to come thundering down the stairs and appear in the doorway. 

“We did it wrong,” I say to him. 

“What?” He’s gripping the top of the doorframe, leaning into the kitchen. It makes his biceps stand out and for a second I can’t tear my eyes away. 

“We were supposed to _recharge_ on our trip,” I explain. 

His face takes on this hilarious expression, like he’s aghast and offended and confused. 

_“What?”_ he cries. Then he shrugs and shakes his head, like it’s a pity. “We need a do-over. Let’s go. Bring the cookies.” 

I’m trying so hard not to laugh, but I can’t help myself. He waits a beat, then grins at me and winks. Mrs. Mendoza makes a clucking sound and I look over at her just in time to see her rolling her eyes in humor. Then I look at Sylvia, who is staring at her brother blankly. I look back at Ari, and he darts his eyes to Sylvia, then back to me. Then back to Sylvia. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he finally asks. “Hi, by the way.” 

She shakes her head like she’s trying to clear it. “Nothing,” she says quickly. Then she gets this quizzical look on her face and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you joke around before.” 

He raises his eyebrows at her, then shrugs and picks up one of the glasses of juice I’d poured. 

Her eyes dart back to me again. She’s got that same wary look. 

“Why are you looking at _me_ like that?” I ask. 

I can feel Ari smirking beside me. Mrs. Mendoza doesn’t even look up from what she’s doing. I guess she’s used to me. 

Sylvia blinks a few times, because she’s _not_ used to me. Yet. “I’m sorry, Dante. You’re just so... _old._ I don’t know. I guess I still see Ari as this little kid. But you’re a young man, so…” She shakes her head again. “I’m just adjusting my paradigm. Ignore me.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Ari says immediately, and I can’t help it. I laugh again. 

“Ari,” his mother admonishes, so I squelch my laughter. Ari doesn’t, though. He laughs his full, lovely laugh. 

“I’m just kidding, Mom.” He looks at Sylvia. “How are things? How’re the kids?” 

She looks like she has no idea how to respond. “Great. They’re great. Getting big. Juan got a new job. Actually, a promotion in the same company. But yeah. Everybody’s great. They’re coming for dinner.” 

While she talks, I wordlessly hold out the chocolate wafers of the three Oreos I’ve just eaten. I don’t like the chocolate part as much as the weird cream-stuff in the middle, so I usually break my Oreos apart and just eat the piece with the cream-stuff and give Ari the chocolate pieces that don’t have cream. It’s actually something we’ve done since that first summer. I call it “the Oreo exchange,” which always makes him roll his eyes. 

Anyway, Ari takes the pieces I’m offering and pops them in his mouth one at a time while I break apart another one. Sylvia’s little monologue has trailed off and now she’s just watching our little ritual. 

“I’m sorry, this is just surreal,” she says. Mrs. Mendoza has been putting groceries away, but now she looks up to see what Sylvia’s talking about. “You’re like, a regular person, Ari.” 

Ari side-eyes me and his look says it all. He wasn’t kidding, about her treating him like a kid, or a pet. I raise my eyebrows at him as if to say, “well, damn.” 

Now it’s Sylvia’s turn to be admonished by her mother. “Sylvia!” 

“No no, I didn’t mean that like it sounded!” Sylvia cries, and I believe her. “I just mean...like I said, you’ve never joked around before, Ari. And the two of you.” She gestures between us as if she wants to be sure we know who she’s talking about. “You’re so comfortable together.” She looks a little embarrassed. “Honestly, when Mom told me you had a boyfriend, I imagined...well, not this.” She shrugs. “I apologize.” 

She sounds sincere, and I smile at her. She smiles back. I can feel Ari smiling at her too, so I reach over and squeeze his hand. He twines his fingers through mine. 

There’s an awkward silence for a minute, so I say, “Are you sure you don’t want help, Mrs. Mendoza? I can put things away as easily as you can.”

“You’re the sweetest, Dante. I’m fine, really. You boys run up and rest, and I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

“Actually, I need to call my folks,” I say. “Let them know we’re home.”

“Speaking of, I was just about to call your mother. I can let her know. They’re coming for dinner.”

Interesting. 

“Great!” I said. “Then I’ll do as you advise, and go rest. Sleep, actually.” I glance at Ari. “Will you wake me up for dinner?”

“Will you wake us up for dinner?” he immediately asks his mom. She laughs, and so does Sylvia. 

“Of course,” she says, and Ari pulls me back up the stairs, Oreos in hand. 

We don’t eat them, though. We both fall into his bed and wrap around each other and are out.

  


No one needs to wake us up, because the smell of dinner does the job. As I come to, my stomach is growling and I can hear the noises of several people clattering around in the kitchen below. It’s a comforting sound. I nudge Ari gently. When he doesn’t respond, I start planting little kisses along his neck. He tastes like campfire smoke and sweat. Within a few seconds he inhales long and slow through his nose, then says, “Always wake me like this, okay?”

“Usually,” I say, and kiss his neck again.  _ “You  _ wake  _ me _ up.” I kiss him just below the ear. He lets out the little squeak I’m coming to realize is his ticklish sound. “But okay.” And I kiss his jaw. He turns his face and kisses me full on the mouth, and then I forget about dinner for a while. 

“Hey, guys?” Sylvia’s voice sounds nervous. Ari stops kissing me, groaning in annoyance, and I look up and realize she’s opened the door and is frozen in the doorway now, her eyes huge. “Um. Sorry to interrupt.” She’s blushing the way Ari does, turning a duskier shade of brown. I’m struck again by how much she looks like him, and how pretty she is. “I was sent to wake you up.” She shrugs a little helplessly. Ari growls, but I laugh. She just got an eyeful of her baby brother’s tongue down my throat, so I take pity on her. 

“Thanks, Sylvia. We’ll be right down.”

She nods and turns to go, but then turns back, hesitantly. “I’m really happy for you, Ari,” she says in Spanish. I look over at him in time to see this beautiful, wide smile spread across his face. Then she’s gone.

  


ARI

Of course, when we get downstairs, Dante’s parents are all over us. That family is the most affectionate group of people I’ve ever met. The thing is, I hadn’t realized how affectionate  _ I _ am. But I am. I mean, I really like affection, anyway. It fills this need in me I didn’t know I had. I don’t know if I ever would have realized it if it weren’t for Dante. Gratitude floods me (as it so often does) as I return Sam’s and Mrs. Quintana’s kisses and hugs. I have to side-hug Mrs. Quintana due to her baby bump. It’s hard to imagine that Dante’s little sibling is in there. I can’t wait to meet him. (Dante insists it’s a boy and since he’s usually right, I’m just going with it.) She takes my hand and places it on her belly, and suddenly there’s this...well, a kick. There’s no other way to describe it. I yelp and jerk away, wide eyed, and she laughs. Then I put my hand back, tentatively, and it happens again. When she meets my eyes, she looks so happy I feel like I might burst. I kiss her cheek and she kisses mine back. 

Sylvia’s husband Juan has arrived with the kids, so I fistbump him (he looks surprised but doesn’t comment), then introduce Dante to him and to my niece and nephews. Juan seems truly thrilled to meet him, and I have to admit, I’m impressed. For all of Sylvia’s awkwardness, both her and her husband are being super cool. I wasn’t sure what to expect. And to top it all off, when I tell the kids Dante’s name, Juan chimes in and says, “You can call him Uncle Dante.” 

Just, wow.

“Does that mean they’re gonna start calling me ‘Uncle Ari?’” I ask. Everyone laughs, but I’m serious. They’ve never been told to call me that.

“Kids, call Ari ‘Uncle Ari’ from now on,” Juan says, and I flash him a smile. He literally does a double take, which almost makes me laugh.

Dante looks beyond thrilled, and it’s a beautiful sight. He shakes their hands in turn, very formal and still somehow sweet, and for the first time I wonder if he wants kids. I mean, I don’t know how that would work. I don’t think they let gay guys adopt kids. And I have no idea if I want kids. I always assumed I’d have them, but that was back when I imagined my life turning out very differently. 

Anyway, it seems worth talking about. I make a mental note. 

Dinner is amazing. Between Sam, my mom, Juan, and Dante, those of us who prefer being quieter are able to do just that. And it’s super amusing. It’s like a contest for who can be the most charismatic, and I’m here for it. The family seems so big, and my other sister and her husband and their kids aren’t even here. I start thinking about the holidays. What a madhouse that’s going to be. Once upon a time I avoided family get-togethers as much as I could, hiding away so I didn’t have to interact. I don’t think I’ll be doing that this year. 

We’ll have a baby in the family by Thanksgiving. That’s wild. 

It also gets me to thinking about Bernardo. I feel a little guilty that I haven’t thought of him nearly as much since Dante and I got together. But I also  _ don’t  _ feel guilty. I feel free, in a way. I mean, I want to know him, and I’m going to write to him and see if that’s a possibility. But I also don’t feel the burden of being a perfect son any more. I don’t have to wonder if I’ll be disowned at the drop of a hat for some offense I can’t even imagine. 

Honestly, looking at my parents, at my mom’s wide smile and my father’s quiet one, I can’t believe I ever feared that. It’s the opposite of who they are. I mean, it makes sense, because I didn’t know the story. But I should have trusted them. Maybe if I had trusted them, I would have been able to trust  _ myself  _ a lot earlier. Trust my feelings. 

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Dante whispers. I hadn’t noticed that he’d been watching me, but come to think of it, he hasn’t chimed in on the conversation for the last several minutes. I put my hand on his leg under the table, and he immediately slides his fingers in between mine and squeezes. 

I squeeze back. “I’m just really glad you’re patient,” I murmur. He leans over like he’s going to kiss my cheek, but he doesn’t. Instead he just kind of hovers with his nose by my jaw. I can feel his breath there. Chills break out up and down my arms, and I kind of shut my eyes. All the talking and laughter fades into the background and it’s like Dante and I are alone in the world. I let the gratitude and fear and joy rush through me. It’s still such a new experience. 

“I’ve found it pays off,” he finally whispers, right into my ear, and _ then _ he kisses my cheek. 

I think I might cry. So instead I shut my eyes tighter for a second, and squeeze his hand tighter, and once I’m sure I won’t cry, I open my eyes again. 

Dante is still leaned into me and he’s smiling the purest smile, oblivious to everyone else. I lean my head towards his and let our noses brush for just a second, and smile back and for a second, our eyes lock. Then he sits back up straight and takes a bite of bread and re-engages in the conversation like nothing happened. I glance up and Sylvia is staring right at me. At us. 

She smiles, and this time there’s no hesitation in it. It’s just a big, wide, happy smile. I return it. 

As we’re finishing up dinner, my mother gets up and disappears into the kitchen. A few minutes later she comes back in holding the biggest cake I’ve ever seen, covered in glowing candles. I was so blissed out over the weekend I’d just had, I’d totally forgotten it had been my birthday. No wonder Sylvia was here. 

Everyone sings happy birthday and for the first time in my life, it doesn’t embarrass me. I just sit there looking around at all of them, all these people I love so much. As soon as the song is over and I've made my wish and blown out the candles (I can't think of a single thing I want that I don't have, so I wish for a safe birth for the baby and Mrs. Quintana) and everyone is cheering, Dante grabs me and plants a warm, solid kiss right on my mouth. It’s an innocent enough kiss, but he doesn’t rush it, either. He really lingers, and so do I. After a minute Sam says, “We’re in the room, boys,” and everyone laughs. 

I’m so happy. 

The presents come out after that. There’s a sweater and a new pair of Converse from Sylvia and her family, and a gift certificate to the bookstore from Cecilia and her family. “They’re really sorry they couldn’t make it,” Sylvia says. Cecilia’s husband has some kind of job where he travels a lot, and he always takes her and the kids along. It’s pretty sweet, when you think about it. I mean, I used to think it was overkill, but now I get it. If Dante ever gets a job traveling, I’m definitely going with him everywhere.

Anyway, I wonder who told them I like to read now.

My parents and Dante’s parents are all on the edges of their seats. Finally my dad stands up and hands me an envelope. I exchange a look with Dante. I have no idea what this is.

Dante wraps his arms around my waist and puts his chin on my shoulder. “Open it already,” he says, so I do. Inside are plane tickets, and Dante starts bouncing. I stare at them, a little bit disbelieving. They're for a round trip to New York City.

“We’re going on a trip?” I finally ask, looking up and meeting my dad’s eyes.

“You two are. If you want to,” my dad says. I just stare at him. Dante’s still bouncing. 

“We thought you could go over winter break,” my mother says. “New York is so pretty at Christmas.”

“I’ve never been to New York,” I say, which is a pretty dumb thing to say. I mean, they  _ know _ that. But really I’m just kind of speechless and it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

My parents laugh. So do the Mendozas. “That’s the  _ point, _ Ari,” Sam says, and winks at me. I turn to Dante.

“Have you been to New York?” 

“No! But I’ve always wanted to go. This trip is for me, too?” He addresses the question to his dad, but immediately looks around at all their faces. 

My dad is the one who answers. “Of course. I highly doubt Ari would enjoy it otherwise.” And then  _ he  _ winks. I’ve never seen my dad wink. “It’s from all four of us,” he adds. 

“I just...I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.” I can barely get my breath. “This is the coolest gift in the world.”

“Better than your truck?” my mom says cheekily, and I laugh.

“As good.” And then I turn to Dante. “We’re going to New York!” 

“At Christmas!” he squeaks in that high-pitched voice I love, and he throws his arms around my neck and kisses me. I kiss him back. 

“We’re in the room, boys!” several voices cry out, repeating his father’s admonishment from earlier. Everyone’s laughing.

My sister and her family leave around 9:00. When she hugs me goodbye, she whispers, “It’s a joy to see you so happy, Ari.” And when Juan fistbumps me, I pull him into a hug. What can I say. The Mendozas have worn off on me. He’s surprised for a second, but quickly recovers and hugs me back. “Nice job, dude. Your boyfriend’s cool as hell,” he says. The kids are bleary eyed, but they all remember to call me “Uncle Ari” when they say goodbye. It’s adorable, really. I like the sound of it. 

When Dante comes up to my room to gather a few things to take home with him (since it is, after all, a school night), the thought of him leaving is like a weight in my chest. I grab him and pull him to me and wrap my arms around him.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I groan. 

“Maybe our parents will let us spend the night together since it was your birthday.” 

I pull away from him enough to look at his face and see if he’s serious. He is, so I grab his hand and we dash downstairs. We’re talking over each other in our haste to get permission.

“Just this once.”

“We’re so exhausted, I promise we’ll be asleep in five minutes.”

“Definitely. You can come check on us. We’ll be out cold.”

“We’ll get much better sleep if we’re together.”

“He’s already my ride to school. It’ll let him sleep in a few more minutes if he doesn’t have to come get me, and it _ is _ his birthday.” 

_ “Was _ his birthday,” my dad corrects, but I can tell they’re going to cave. They’re all looking at each other, communicating silently. It occurs to me that the silent looks aren’t just between the couples now. The four of them know each other well enough that it’s cross-family. 

I have four parents. And I’m here for it.

“Just this once,” Sam finally says, “at our house, since I doubt you have a uniform here, Dante.” Dante and I whoop and run back up the stairs. 

“We’ll meet you there!” Dante calls over his shoulder. 

“It’s obvious how exhausted you both are,” Sam yells up after us. We just laugh.

  


At Dante’s house, we decide to take turns showering while the other one brushes his teeth, then sits on the sink for conversational purposes. I shower first, and when Dante’s in the shower and it’s time to brush my teeth I realize I forgot to bring a toothbrush.

“You can use mine,” Dante says. 

“That’s kind of gross, Dante,” I say. I’ve never used someone else’s toothbrush before, but it seems unhygienic. 

Dante sticks his head out from behind the shower curtain. “Come here,” he says, so of course I go to him. He puts one dripping wet hand on the back of my head and pulls my face to his for an incredibly deep, invasive kiss. His face is wet, his lips are wet, his hair is dripping on me, but I barely notice because of how sloppily he’s kissing me. His tongue is all over the inside of my mouth. I kiss him back just as wildly, instantly turned on. I start to wonder if he’s hoping I’ll get in the shower with him...

Then he pulls away abruptly. “So,” he says, so conversational that my head is spinning. “Tell me what’s so gross about borrowing my toothbrush.” His dancing eyes are challenging me. “The spit we’ll swap? The fact that whatever germs were in my mouth will now be in yours?” 

I glare at him. He grins his wicked grin and ducks back behind the curtain. I use his toothbrush to brush my teeth and when I’m done I say, “That wasn’t one of the caveats.”

He laughs, loudly, then sticks his head out from behind the curtain. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says, and his voice is so silky the drumming water almost drowns it out. 

“I really like it when you’re flirtatious,” I say, because I do. Frankly, I’m weak in the knees right now just from the way his voice just sounded. 

“Noted,” he says, then turns off the water and shoves the shower curtain aside and then he’s just standing there, naked and dripping wet and grinning at me. If we weren’t both about to fall asleep standing up I would jump his bones. But we are, so I don’t.

Instead, I say, “I cannot handle you,” and I hop off the sink and head out of the bathroom. 

“You did a good job this weekend,” he calls after me, and I groan and collapse on his bed. I love him so fucking much. 

I’m half asleep when he crawls in after me a few minutes later. It feels so good to be so tired in such a soft bed, and so content wrapped up in his arms. His body is still radiating heat from the shower, and I nuzzle my face into his neck and let unconsciousness take me. 

  



	9. notes in class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Gina & Susie.

ARI

I’m dead on my feet when I get to school. However many hours of sleep Dante and I got last night, it was definitely not enough. 

The girls have developed the routine of waiting in my parking space each morning. They move out of the way - slowly - when I arrive. (Sometimes I blow the horn at them just to see them jump. They always shriek and giggle and flip me off. It’s kinda funny.) It seems a little weird, but I don’t mind. For one thing, they save my space every day so even if I’m running late (which happens frequently, as Dante and I have a difficult time saying goodbye), I still get a good space, near the building and in the shade.

For another, it’s nice to see them.

“How was your weekend, Ari?” Susie asks before I’m even out of the truck. I grin at her. 

“Fantastic,” I say. “I’m still asleep right now, though, so don’t expect much in the way of conversation this morning.” 

Both girls laugh. “What did you do?” Gina asks.

“It was my birthday,” (both girls gasp dramatically) “...so Dante and I went camping, which was... well.” I can feel myself starting to blush, so I quickly change the subject. “And then last night we had this big family dinner. Our parents gave us a trip to New York.” 

“Holy shit,” Gina exclaims, while Susie cries, “For your birthday?!” I laugh.

“Yep.”

“Damn. Do they know you two are shagging, or do they think you’re just best bros?” Gina asks, and I laugh - hard - at her word choice.

“Of course they think they’re just friends, Gina,” Susie says, rolling her eyes. “What parents would be okay with that?”

“Actually they are. Okay with it. I mean, actually, they want us to be together.” Both girls gape at me, so I explain. “They could tell we were in love for a long time, and that we were miserable. And they - you know - wanted us to not be miserable. And we’re not just  _ shagging, _ Gina. He’s my boyfriend.” I scowl at her. “Where did you even get that word? You sound like a British mother trying to sound cool.” 

“Wait...so you  _ are  _ shagging?” Gina cries. Leave it to her to pick out the one single detail in a conversation that could embarrass me. Both girls turn to each other, clasp hands between them, and squeal.

“Ugh. You two drive me nuts. It’s too early for that sound,” I sigh, turning away from them and heading towards the building. They quickly catch up to me, giggling. 

“Oh my God I have so many questions, I don’t know where to begin. When you say  _ shagging _ , what exactly do you mean? Because my imagination is straight up exploding right now,” Gina persists.

_ “You _ said shagging. I said, ‘mind your own fucking business, you perv.’ Or if I didn’t, I meant to.” 

Both girls dissolve into laughter again. They’re each hanging on an arm, like they do. 

“So cranky for a guy who spent the weekend getting laid by his dreamboat boyfriend,” Gina teases, and I try to scowl at her and end up laughing instead. Susie’s laughing so hard she’s got tears on her cheeks.

“Would you  _ please  _ cut it out?” I ask, but even I have to admit I don’t sound like I mean it. Gina just grins knowingly at me, and I roll my eyes.

If someone had told me a year ago I would be having this exchange with these girls, I never would have believed it. Also I probably would have punched that someone in the nose. And yet, here I am, and I’m so over the moon (from getting laid by my dreamboat boyfriend all weekend) that I don’t even mind. Not really. 

Not that I’m going to tell Gina that.

“Hey, do you want to go to the desert with us this weekend? We have all this beer and pot we took camping and never got around to doing.” I feel my face heating up, because of why we hadn’t gotten around to drinking or smoking. Dante didn’t want to do anything sexual if we were fucked up, and I was much more interested in having sex with him than I was in partying.

It’s barely out of my mouth before their faces are lit up. I swear, I don’t know why they want to be my friend so much, but they do. I thought about how Dante had said everyone liked me, but I pushed people away. I wonder if he might have been onto something.

“That would be awesome, Ari!” Susie cries, as Gina says, “Absolutely yes.” 

I’m immediately regretting it. I think I just wanted to change the subject, and now it’s too late to take it back. 

I tell myself it’ll be fun. Hopefully. I’m 100% sure that Dante won’t mind. I’m actually 100% sure that he’ll be excited. He loves people, and he loves doing new things, and he’s already said he likes Gina and Susie.

I have a sudden inspiration. “Great. You can only come if you swear to never mention my sex life again.” 

Gina mock-swoons. “You have a  _ sex life.  _ That’s so hot, Ari. Say it again, just once more.”

We’re at the front doors to the school by now, and I pull my arm out of hers and shove her lightly. She erupts into giggles, kisses my cheek (eliciting several death-glares from a cluster of football players huddled by the lockers), and heads off in the direction of her class. We’re right by Susie’s door, and she reaches up and kisses my cheek, too. I pointedly avoid looking in the direction of the football players. They must think I’m the ultimate Casenova. 

“Thanks for not participating in that,” I say to her. 

She just smiles. “See ya in second.” 

  
  


When I get to our second period class and start unpacking my things, she brings up my parents again. 

“You’re so lucky,” she says. “I mean, I just didn’t think anyone’s parents would be okay with their kid being gay.”

“Why would you think that?” I ask her.

She shrugs, then looks down at her notebook and starts plucking at a bent corner. “My parents sure won’t be. I don’t ever plan to tell them.”

It takes me a second to process. “Wait... _ you’re  _ gay?”

She laughs a little, but there’s not much humor in it. “Yeah.”

“I had no idea.” An idea occurs to me. “Wait...is Gina your girlfriend?”

She laughs again, this time with zero humor at all. “I wish.”

I stare at her. What kind of coincidence would it be if they had the same relationship dynamic Dante and I had had?

“She’s not interested in girls?” I ask, carefully. I think, “or just you?” but I don’t say it. 

“I don’t know. I haven’t told her,” Susie says softly. “We’ve never talked about that.” Then she looks up at me with wide, pleading eyes. “I don’t know why I told you. Please don’t tell her.” She looks slightly panicked, so I put my hand on her arm. 

“I’m not gonna tell her,” I promise. The panicked look in her eyes fades away, and she nods.

“Thanks.”

“Why don’t  _ you  _ tell her, though? It’s gotta be torture to carry around a secret like that.” I think about Dante. About how sad and scared and lonely he must have felt, knowing he was in love with me and not knowing how I’d take it. And even after that, after he told me, after I rejected him. How awful that must have been.

The guilt makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“It’s a pretty big risk to take, Ari. I mean, there’re about a thousand ways it could go, and nine hundred and ninety nine of them involve losing her friendship.”

“That’s not true, though. Trust me. That’s exactly what Dante thought, but he told me anyway. And I was this delusional asshole, so pumped up with my own masculinity, and I still didn’t stop being his friend.” I’ve never admitted how much I was concerned with my masculinity before, but as soon as it comes out of my mouth, I know it’s true.

I’m also a little surprised I’m telling her about our story. It’s not something I go around telling people. I mean, it’s pretty private, when you think about it. But it’s so relevant right now, and I don’t think Dante will mind. 

“Yeah, but you were in love with him. I don’t think Gina’s in love with me.” 

I open my mouth to speak, but right then the bell rings and the teacher calls us to attention. Susie smiles, a little sadly, and opens her textbook.

I open mine, too, but I also take out a sheet of paper. I write, 

**I didn’t know I was in love with him and I didn’t know I was gay. I was actually pretty freaked out when he told me. But I still didn’t stop being his friend, because that’s not what friends do.**

I slide it to the edge of my desk and nudge her. She looks at me and I glance at the paper to get her to look at it. She reads it, then her eyes dart to the front of the room to make sure the teacher is occupied. She’s writing on the chalkboard, so Susie takes the paper and writes her own note on it.

**_Gina’s not you. She can be really hot headed._ **

I have to suppress a laugh. I take the paper back and write, 

**You think I can’t?**

She reads it and suppresses a laugh herself. “Fair enough,” she whispers.

**Besides,** I write. **She clearly really likes you. You guys seem pretty close, anyway. And inseparable. Even if she doesn’t return your feelings, she’s not going to quit being friends with you.** _You might decide to quit being friends with her, eventually, once your heart can’t take it anymore,_ I think. But I don’t add that part. It does make me think of something, though. **You should talk to Dante about this. He went through the exact same thing.**

She snatches the paper and quickly writes,  **_No! Please don’t tell him, Ari. The more people that know, the more of a chance she’ll find out before I’m ready._ **

I scowl. It’s not like Dante would run out and broadcast it. And anyway, I’m not in the business of keeping secrets from Dante. 

This isn’t really my secret, though.

Except my mind goes back to asking Susie to help me find Ileana’s locker all those months ago, and how I’d asked her not to tell Gina, and how she ran off and told Gina the first chance she got.

I decide not to bring it up. It doesn’t seem like the right time and anyway, Susie’s secret is bigger than mine had been. Much more important.

I probably won’t tell him. Not right away, anyway. But I still don’t want to promise to keep a secret from him, so I just don’t respond. Luckily, the teacher has turned around and is calling on people to read out loud from the textbook, so we can’t really keep writing back and forth anyway. 

  
  


As expected, Dante is ecstatic when I tell him I invited the girls to hang out Friday. 

  
  


DANTE

Ari thinks I’m so excited about him inviting the girls out because I want to hang out with them, and that’s partially true. I mean, I  _ do _ want to hang out with them. Gina is a riot, and Susie seems like she’s got some depth to her. She actually reminds me of Ari in the tiniest way. She’s much more talkative than he’s ever been, but you can tell she’s thinking. That was what attracted me to Ari right off the bat. The guy is  _ always  _ thinking, and if you really look at him and pay attention, you can tell. 

Susie’s kind of the same way. Even when she’s horsing around and talking and stuff, she still seems like she’s watching everyone closely, and thinking about things she’s not saying. 

I say all this like I know them so well. I’ve only had a handful of conversations with them, so I’m probably not actually qualified to have an opinion.

Anyway, that’s not the reason I’m excited. I’m excited because Ari actually made a move to be social. It’s been such a miracle to get to watch him come out of his shell. I love it when he jokes around with me in front of our family, and I love that he kisses me back even when everyone’s watching. I love that he reaches out and takes my hand in public. Little by little, he’s becoming more and more confident, and at the risk of sounding egotistical, I feel like it’s because of me. I think he can tell how much I love him, and that gives him confidence. It makes me happier than I can even explain. So his asking Gina and Susie to hang out feels like the next step towards him fully embracing life. Letting himself be liked. Letting himself engage with the world. 

And I want that for him. He deserves to feel liked and wanted, because he’s the coolest guy in the universe.

I don’t say any of that, though. I just say, “Who’s going to be the DD?”

Ari looks at me blankly. He’s lounging on my bed, propped up on my pillows (I’m so fucking happy they’ll smell like him tonight; I’ll sleep better), and I’m poised in front of my canvas, brush in hand. I haven’t let him look at what I’m painting yet, but I will, soon. I decided not to wait until I’m done anymore. I mean, he tells me everything he’s thinking whenever I ask. I’m having  _ sex _ with the guy. It just seems weird, now, to not show him my art-in-progress. 

“I hadn’t thought about that,” he admits. I flash him a grin and watch him kind of melt. It’s a wild thing, to see somebody melt because you smile at them. Very empowering, I have to admit.

“We should just sleep out there! Take our tent and set it up for the girls. You and I can crash in the back of the truck.”

He considers this. “I wonder if their parents will be okay with that.”

I laugh. “Newsflash, Ari. Most people lie to their parents. You and I are kinda freaks.”

He laughs. “That, we are.” He thinks again, then he says, “This is turning into a whole thing.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “What’s wrong with having a whole thing?”

“Nothing, if it’s with you. I’m not sure I’m ready to have a whole thing with Gina and Susie.”

That guy can always make me laugh. I’m doubled over, clutching my stomach. He watches me for a minute and then he starts laughing, too. 

“I sound ridiculous, don’t I?” he asks. 

“So ridiculous,” I say, walking over to him. “You’re the epitome of ridiculous, and it’s so fucking cute I can’t stand it.” I kiss him, then, just a peck. Except he immediately puts his hands on my face and pulls me in for a deeper kiss. We only stop when I realize I’m still holding my paintbrush and he’s got paint in his hair.

When he comes back from the bathroom, his hair dripping water all over the floor, he nods. “Fine. We’ll spend the night. If they can. If not, we won’t do it.”

“Or someone will be the DD. Jeez, Ari, not everything has to be black and white,” I say, and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly and crawls back onto my bed.

“Whatever. Put down your paintbrush and come make out with me.”

I do. 

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's fanon that Susie & Gina are a couple, and I started out thinking they'd be in this fic, but when I tried to write it, it seemed boring. Hopefully this twist on fanon is enjoyable :)


	10. truth or dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys and girls have a campout. Truths get shared. Shit gets weird. (But our boys are golden, as always.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [Pai61](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pai61/pseuds/Pai61). Thank you, my friend, for talking things out with me. Some of the ideas in this chapter are 100% Pai's.

ARI

The first time Gina and Susie met my parents, they charmed them, which is probably the only reason their ridiculous stories are working at all right now.

Dante and I just came down the stairs, bags over our shoulders. (The rest of the camping gear is already in the back of the truck.) “Oh, yeah,” Gina’s saying to my dad. “My parents are totally fine with it. I’ve told them all about Ari, and they think it’s great that I’ve got this buff gay guy for a friend.” 

I would protest, but I’m too speechless. Dante nudges me. I side-eye him and can see he’s using every ounce of strength not to bust out laughing. 

My father crosses his arms and cocks his head. “Really?” he asks, sounding infinitely curious. Gina doesn’t recognize the skepticism in his tone. Now _I’m_ suppressing a laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” she carries on without blinking an eye. “I mean, think about it. Ari’s so tough and strong, so he could protect me if needed, but he’s never going to try to...you know.” She actually blushes, like she’s embarrassed herself. I wonder if she’s planning to go into acting when she gets to college. She shrugs this little demure shrug. “It’s like a dad’s dream come true, for his little girl to have a friend like that.”

Dante is positively vibrating next to me. I am resolutely avoiding meeting his eye because there will be no holding back the laughter if that happens.

“Hmm,” my dad says, and for a second I think he’s going to call Gina’s bluff, but then he smiles at her. “That actually makes a lot of sense. I sure hope you don’t ever need defending, though.” He gives me a stern look. “You know we don’t approve of fighting.” 

“I don’t know why Gina thinks I’d defend her,” I volunteer, and at this point Dante loses it. He literally falls to his knees, he’s laughing so hard. 

My mom is staring around at all of us, one eyebrow lifted almost to her hairline. She looks at my dad, and he looks at her, and then, ignoring Dante’s hysteria, she turns to Susie. 

“What about you? Your parents are alright with you camping out with boys?”

“Yes, Mrs. Mendoza. I’ve always been, you know. The quintessential good girl. They trust me.” 

Oh. My. God. I can see the headline now: Seventeen year old boy dies from holding in laughter. 

I’ve got to get us out of here. 

I grab hold of Dante’s arm and lug him to his feet. “It’s all fine, Mom. Everything’s on the up and up. We’re taking the girls camping because they’ve never been camping. It’s _fine.”_ I’ve already explained this to my parents, but I think they know better. I think they know we’re going to drink, and they’re going along with this campout idea because they don’t want me driving if I’ve been drinking. They actually think I’m being responsible. 

Which I guess, technically, I am. 

“And you’ll be home tomorrow?” my mother asks. She looks a little worried, and frankly so does my dad. 

“Yes. Tomorrow. I promise.” I cross over to them and hug them in turn. Dante’s right on my heels, handing out his own hugs. 

“You kids be good,” my dad says, and I take it as the release from custody that it is. I make a beeline out the door, dragging Dante with me. 

We all pile into the truck. The girls are soft and smell flowery. “There is way too much estrogen in this truck right now,” I say as I back out of the driveway. They dissolve into giggles. I glance across them to Dante, who’s pressed up against the side door. He meets my eye and grins. 

We get a block down the street and I pull over. “Rearrange,” I say simply.

“What?” Susie asks.

“I want Dante to ride beside me. Rearrange,” I clarify. Both the girls say “awwwww” in these sing-songy voices. I don’t react. Dante is wearing a very smug look when he opens the door and climbs out, and they follow him, and then he climbs back in and smooshes up next to me. He actually puts his left leg over my right one. I like it even better than the usual way we ride. 

The girls clamber back in and it takes Susie three tries to slam the door hard enough that it sticks. I sigh, and Dante just chuckles. I pull back onto the road. With his leg over mine, my gear-hand ends up resting on his inner thigh instead of on his knee. I _definitely_ like this better than the way we usually ride. 

The girls are talking animatedly, with Dante joining in every so often. I can’t help but tune in to Gina’s reponses to Susie. I wonder if there’s any chance she feels the same about her. I mean, I’ll admit it’s a long shot. She may not be into girls at all, and even if she is, that’s no guarantee she’s into Susie. I mean, that’s two layers of a long shot. What are the odds? I feel kind of sorry for Susie. I also suddenly recognize a whole new level of how lucky Dante and I are. 

Dante gets Susie to hand him my cassette box, and he puts on a Led Zeppelin tape. Next thing I know, we’re all singing at full volume to D’yer Mak’er. At one point we’re at a stoplight during the chorus and Dante grabs my face to sing, “Baby I love ya” right at me, and I kiss him, and the girls squeal.

This might actually be a fun night.

We get there and set up the tent for the girls, and unload the coolers and the wood I brought and set up our makeshift bed in the back of the truck, and then we make a campfire. The sun is starting to set when Dante hands out beers. 

“You guys are so lucky,” Gina says. 

“I know,” I say, right as Dante says, “How do you mean?”

Gina shrugs. “It’s just pretty incredible that your parents are so supportive. I don’t know any gay people whose parents are like that.”

Dante laughs. “Yeah, but how many gay people do you actually know?” he challenges.

I look up in time to see Gina’s eyes dart to Susie so quickly I’m not sure she even realizes she does it. Interesting.

“Fair enough. But still.” 

“I’m not saying you’re wrong. Our parents are great. They actually gave us a trip to New York for Ari’s birthday,” Dante says.

“We know!! It’s so amazing. What all are you guys gonna do?” Gina asks. Dante starts listing off a bunch of museums, which makes Gina say “ugh” and makes me kind of laugh, but I’m mostly focused on Susie. She’s leaning against the truck, tracing the rim of her beer can, staring down into it. After a few minutes I go lean against the truck beside her. I bump her shoulder with mine. 

“You okay?” I ask softly. She looks up at me with a sad smile. 

“I’m great,” she says. 

“Liar,” I whisper, and she puts her head on my shoulder. It’s a little weird, but I let her do it. 

We’re on our second round of beers when Gina asks, “Didn’t you guys say something about pot?” The sun is on the horizon by now, and the sky is a vivid explosion of color. I look at Dante, and he looks at me, and then he smiles and pulls out a joint and a lighter. I watch him light it, his graceful movements enchanting me. The way he inhales, holds the smoke, then lets it trail out of his mouth is somehow incredibly sensual. I abandon Susie because I need to touch him. When I put my hands on his waist, he puts the joint in my mouth and starts kissing my neck. He presses his body up against mine and I let my hand slide around to his lower back as I inhale, then hold the joint out. No one takes it, so I look around to see what the girls are doing. They’re both just staring at us.

“Do you wanna hit it?” I ask Gina, holding the joint more pointedly towards her.

“Oh...yeah.” She takes it and inhales. “Sorry,” she says, her voice sounding tight because she’s holding in her hit. She exhales in one long stream. “You guys are super hot, do you know that?”

I glance over at Susie before I can stop myself. She looks a little devastated. 

“You do realize we are A) monogamous and B) gay, right?” I ask her, trying to make light. Since when do I try to make light? It starts to sink in that Susie really is my friend. She must be, if I care about her feelings so much. 

Gina punches my arm as Dante falls against me, laughing. “Get over yourself, Mendoza. I mean it’s hot to see how in love with each other you are.” 

The pot seeps into my brain and everything gets fuzzy, and I like it. Dante and I can’t stop laughing, just like last time. Only this time, we’re a little tipsy, too, and we’ve got girls with us. And it’s nighttime, and it’s not raining. A lot of differences I guess. That makes me laugh even more.

“What’s so funny now?” Dante asks me. He laughs the whole time he says it. God, he’s adorable.

“You’re so fucking adorable,” I say, and I kiss him. Then that’s all there is - the substances have already slowed my thinking brain way down and heightened my sensory brain, and now that his tongue is in my mouth my thoughts disappear completely. I’m nothing but this experience, right now, this experience of kissing the most beautiful human being I’ve ever known and being thoroughly kissed back.

“I really hate to spoil your personal little sex party,” Gina’s voice cuts in, “but there are two other people here.” 

Dante pulls away from me, doubling over with laughter. “I forgot you were here!” He’s barely able to get the words out.

“THAT’S NOT ONE OF THE CAVEATS!” I cry, and then he and I fall into each other because we’re laughing so hard. 

“Oh my God, you’re right,” he says, pulling my face back to his. I kiss him soundly on the mouth and pull away. 

“That’s better,” I say.

“What’s a caveat?” Susie asks. I pull my gaze away from Dante’s perfect face to look over at the girls. 

“An exception, sort of. A contingency. How would you define ‘caveat?’” I ask Dante, but he’s laughing too hard to answer. I look back at the girls. “We have this thing. He doesn’t ever stop kissing me except in certain circumstances.”

They’re both looking at us quizzically. “You guys are so weird,” Gina says, but then she grins. 

“Weird!” Dante practically screams, and I dissolve into laughter again, thinking about how many times we used that word that first summer. 

“No more weed for you,” I say to him. “You’re gonna hyperventilate from all this laughing.” 

“Fair enough,” he says. “Hey, I have an idea.”

I groan. 

“What? It’s a good idea.”

“I bet you a million dollars it’s not,” I counter, and he shoves me playfully.

“What are you talking about? When have I ever had a not-good idea?”

I almost say, “Daniel,” but I stop myself just in time. _That_ would be a mood-killer if there ever was one. 

“We should play truth-or-dare,” he announces dramatically. I groan again.

“Dante, that’s a _terrible_ idea,” I say. “What’s the point? We’re truthful about everything already, and neither one of us is going to dare the other to do something they’re not comfortable with.”

“God, you guys are boring,” Gina says, and to my surprise, she pulls a cigarette out of her fanny pack and lights up. “Sweet, but boring. I’m all for truth-or-dare.”

“Fine,” I say, “but if everyone ends up in tears, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I never knew you were such a drama queen, Ari,” Gina counters. “No one’s going to end up in _tears.”_ She climbs up into the bed of the truck and makes herself comfortable on our bed. 

“Don’t ash that thing on my pillow,” I warn, climbing up after her. She makes a face at me.

Once we’re all seated in a circle, Dante’s hand holding mine and our knees pressed together, Susie asks, “Who goes first?”

“Dante,” I say, like it’s obvious. “It was his brilliant idea.”

“Fine,” Dante says, lifting his chin like he’s proud. “Ari. Truth or dare.”

“Seriously? I already said…”

“Just answer the question!” Gina interrupts. I sigh.

“Truth.”

“Tell me a fantasy you have about me,” Dante says smoothly.

I almost keel over. “There is no way I’m going to do that with an audience,” I say flatly. The girls both say “oooooh.” 

Dante squeezes my hand. “It doesn’t have to be sexual, you perv. Though now I’m intrigued. I _will_ be asking you again later, when we don’t have an audience.”

I glare at him, and he loses his battle with his laughter. 

“Fine. I have this amazing fantasy wherein you don’t suggest truth-or-dare at our campout,” I say, and then all three of them are laughing.

“You’re hopeless, Ari. Dante, ask me,” Gina says. 

“Okay. Gina.” He thinks a minute, and I watch him do it, blown away for the ten millionth time by how beautiful he is. “What’s something you always wanted to say, and never have?”

My eyes go straight to Susie. I wish I could pull Dante aside and tell him to steer clear of this kind of thing. Shit. See, I should have told him her secret.

Susie isn’t looking at any of us. She’s pulling at a loose thread on the quilt. I want to tell her to stop so she doesn’t end up unraveling part of my Aunt Ophelia’s quilt, but I don’t. I decide to trust her. She doesn’t seem like the accidentally-destructive type.

Gina is sprawled out, her long legs extended off to the side. She’s kind of resting her weight on her hand that’s on the quilt behind her, and I notice it’s right next to Susie’s. Like, their fingers are a hairsbreadth away. I’m sure Susie is hyper-conscious of it; I wonder if Gina is.

“I’m not drunk enough for that question,” she finally says.

“That’s not how the game works,” Dante says. Only Dante Quintana can make a scowl beautiful. 

“Can I take a raincheck then?”

“No!” Dante and I both shout. Then we fall into each other laughing again. 

“I just don’t think you’re ready for my truth,” Gina says, and for a split second, she looks right at me. It’s uncomfortable, though I’m not sure anyone else notices, so it’s probably just me. I get uncomfortable sometimes with direct eye contact. 

Well, not with Dante. I feel like he and I live off direct eye contact. We always have.

Good God, how did I never figure out that I was in love with him?

Gina’s drumming her fingers on the quilt. Something about the way she’s moving makes me think that if she’s not drunk enough for something, she’s well on her way.

Almost as if she intuited my thought, she says, “Do you guys have another joint?”

Like magic, Dante produces another one. I kinda want to stop him. I kinda want to go back in time and tell him what Susie said and suggest we just take it a little easy tonight. 

“Are we sure we need this?” I ask, lamely. Susie’s eyes dart to mine - she’s the most sober of any of us, I think - and then Gina is reaching over and slapping my thigh. 

“Yes, Mom. We need this,” she says. I narrow my eyes at her, which makes her laugh. On a totally objective level, I can see how pretty she is. She’s like a flower, all soft lines and delicate aesthetics.

God, how did I not realize how _gay_ I am? I look at Dante and the word that goes through my head is “perfect” and the thought that goes through my body is “touch him.” I look at Gina and the word that goes through my head is “pretty” and...well, there’s not really a thought that goes through my body at all. 

I’m too high. Thinking too much. I decide not to hit the joint that Dante is lighting (again, looking like an angel as he does it). 

“You know,” he says, and his voice sounds tight like Gina’s did, because he’s holding in the smoke. “You can choose what to tell us. It doesn’t have to be the be-all, end-all of secrets. You can even make something up. We wouldn’t know.” He exhales in a long, steady stream. I watch him. I wish the girls weren’t here right now, because I really want to kiss him right beside his Adam’s apple. I want to start there, and not stop until my lips have been on every inch of his body.

He offers me the joint and I shake my head. 

“Really?” he asks.

“I’m thinking too much,” I say, and then I feel myself blush. 

“No such thing,” he counters, but he gives me a look and I _know_ he knows what I’m thinking. He hands the joint to Susie and slides his hand onto my thigh. My whole body lights up. 

Okay, so apparently pot gets me horny. 

I think about that time when we smoked before, right here in our spot in the desert. The time we took off all our clothes (but not our shoes, the irony of which is incredible, considering Dante’s feelings about shoes) and ran around the truck in the rain. I remember thinking I didn’t know what I would do if he touched me.

I was lying to myself. I knew, alright. 

Anyway, I’m kind of surprised that Susie takes the joint, to be honest. Maybe she’s decided she’s not fucked up enough for what she wants to say, either.

I really hope she tells Gina tonight. It’s the perfect night for it, out here under the stars. And Gina seems...vulnerable, somehow. Maybe...maybe...they can have the same happy ending as Dante and I. 

I’ve spent the week trying to convince Susie to tell her. I mean, if the roles are mirrored, she’s the Dante in this situation. And while I wasn’t ready to face it when Dante told me he loved me, I still feel like it was the right decision. He was right; you can’t really be best friends with someone if you’re keeping some huge, monumental secret from them. 

And anyway, Gina’s way more self-possessed than I ever was. Part of my issue was fear, and part of it was lack of self-worth, and part of it was being afraid of happiness. Gina seems to have none of those issues. So Susie’s got a lot on her side even if, statistically, the odds are against her.

I watch her exhale her smoke and hand the joint to Gina, who keeps it for a while. She literally starts smoking it like a cigarette. I get a deep sense of foreboding in my gut, and take Dante’s hand. He weaves his fingers through mine without seeming to notice himself doing it. Which is fair enough. I mean, we hold hands all the time.

DANTE

Ari takes my hand and I weave my fingers through his automatically. It’s like kissing. I’ll always kiss him back, and I’ll always hold his hand. 

I can’t even imagine caveats to the hand-holding thing.

I wonder what’s going on with him, though. He seems nervous in a way I’ve never seen him. It’s making me a little worried. I want to get him alone and ask him what’s up, but I don’t know how to do it without embarrassing him.

Finally, Gina hands the joint to Susie, takes a big swig of beer, and says, “I have a mad crush on you, Ari.” 

The sky is so big, and vast, above us. The desert is so empty and still around us. There’s no way her words could echo, and yet they do. 

Maybe it’s just in my head.

Her eyes are big, like she’s surprised herself. She blinks a couple times, and swallows, and says, “I have for a long time.”

I realize his hand has gone completely still in mine. I squeeze it.

Jealousy rises up in me. A minute ago I was high and buzzed, but now I feel stone-cold sober. 

“Don’t get weird!” she cries, and I realize Ari and I have just been staring at her. “I’m not saying I think there’s any chance that anything’s going to happen. I mean, you guys are obviously head over heels in love. I would never, in a million years, try to fuck that up. I just, I don’t know. I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, so…” Her voice trails off because Susie has gotten up and hopped gracefully off the back of the truck. All three of us watch her go sit down on the ground beside the fire and put her face in her hands. 

Ari looks over at me and I meet his eyes. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, and he starts to get up, but then he rethinks and he leans over and kisses me deeply. When he pulls away, my lips are wet with his spit and I can’t help but grin a little smugly, because that kiss was a crystal-clear communication to both me _and_ Gina. 

Then he lets go of my hand and jumps off the truck and goes over to sit by Susie.

I wonder what the hell is going on. 

“What’s wrong with Susie?” I ask. Gina looks at me, her eyes full of regret. 

“I have no idea. Please don’t be mad, Dante. I’m not trying to make a move on your man. That’s why I haven’t told him before. I wanted to do it when you were there, so you would understand I’m not trying to pull some shit.” She’s got tears in her eyes, and she looks down at her hands, which are twisting together. I feel kind of sorry for her. 

“I’m not mad, Gina. And I understand.” I chuckle. “No one on this earth understands better than me what it feels like to fall for Ari Mendoza.” 

She looks up at me, blinking, her long lashes wet with tears. “You really are one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met,” she says. I grin at her.

“I know.” That makes her laugh. “Seriously, though. You don’t know what’s wrong with Susie?”

She looks over her shoulder to where Ari and Susie are talking quietly. Ari has his arm around her. I’m jealous again, but I ignore it because I know it’s stupid.

“I really don’t know,” she says. 

“Did she know you have a crush on Ari?”

“I mean, I never told her. I never told anyone til right now. But I assumed she knew. I mean, I was always the one who would suggest going to his work and stuff.” 

“I wonder if she has a crush on him, too.” 

Gina shakes her head slowly. “Honestly, I kinda think she’s gay.”

“You _what?”_

“Well, I don’t know. She’s just never been into a guy. Not once. And she just...I don’t know how to describe it. I’ve caught her checking out girls before. I never said anything to her about it. I figured she’d tell me when she’s ready. But no, I don’t think she has a crush on Ari.”

I’m staring at Gina. I’m dismayed because I think I understand what’s going on.

“Gina.” She looks at me. “Do you think she has a crush on _you?”_

Gina looks like I just smacked her. Then her head drops back, like she’s stargazing, but her eyes flutter closed. “Fuck,” she whispers.

She sits there for a minute, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. Then she seems to come to some kind of decision because she abruptly stands up and hops off the back of the truck.

ARI

When I sit down next to Susie, I see that she’s crying. Not sobbing or anything. She’s just got tears rolling down her cheeks. I put my arm around her. I have no idea what to say, so I don’t say anything.

It’s just as well, because she starts talking. “I was going to tell her tonight. I’d gotten myself convinced that maybe she felt the same way. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Susie. I thought she might feel the same way, too. God, I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to talk you into telling her all week. I had no idea, I swear.”

“I know you didn’t, Ari. You’ve been being a good friend. I understand why she’s into you. If I was attracted to guys, I’d be into you, too.”

I chuckle and squeeze her shoulders. “Are you going to tell her?” I ask. “I still think you should. I think friends need to tell each other things.” God, I sound like Dante. It makes me smile, but I try to suppress it because now is not the time for smiling.

“No way,” Susie says. “I’m going to pretend I never even considered telling her. I’m taking this secret to my grave. You haven’t told Dante, have you?” 

I sigh. “No, I haven’t. But Susie, I kinda have to.”

She looks at me, alarmed. “Why do you have to?”

I shrug. “I dunno. I tell him everything. And he’s going to wonder why I’m sitting here with my arm around you.”

I don’t mean it to be funny, but she laughs. I’m glad. 

“God, this whole thing is a clusterfuck. Do you think he’s upset with Gina?”

“Nah. He’s understanding to a fault. And anyway, he never gets upset about people telling the truth.”

“You guys really are super weird, do you know that?” Susie asks, but before I can respond Gina is crouching next to her. I feel Susie tense. 

“Will you come in our tent and talk to me?” Gina asks her, and her voice is so sweet and gentle, I kind of love her right then. 

Not in the way she might want. But love, all the same. 

I feel like Susie might be about to tell her no, so I withdraw my arm and stand up. “I think that’s a good idea,” I say. Susie looks a little betrayed, but then she sighs. 

“Okay,” she says, so quietly I barely hear it.

Gina stands and reaches out her hand, and after a second, Susie takes it and allows herself to be pulled to her feet. Without another word, the girls disappear into the tent. After a second, the zipper closes, and I can see the beam of a flashlight in there, facing straight up into the sky like they set it between them.

I hope Susie tells her.

I hope their friendship isn’t ruined.

I climb back into the truck with Dante. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost. 

“Um. So, just for the record, you were totally right. Truth-or-dare was a terrible idea.”

I laugh. “Wait...did I just win an argument?” He laughs, but there’s too much tension in it.

“What the fuck just happened?” he asks.

“Susie has a crush on Gina,” I say without preamble. Dante nods slowly.

“Yeah, I figured that out.”

Of course he did.

“Did Gina?” I ask. 

Dante nods slowly again. “Yeah.” I lie down on our bed and look up at the stars. We’re both quiet for a minute, and then he asks, “Are you attracted to Gina at all?”

What the actual fuck? I look at him and he meets my eyes and holds my gaze. He’s serious. I barely know how to respond. How is he actually nervous about this? 

“You are such a punk,” I say, reaching out to pull him down so he’s lying beside me, in the circle of my arms. “Do you realize what a punk you are? I mean, you’re an A-1, first class…”

He’s pulling me tighter against him, kind of clinging to me, so I quit talking and kiss him. He kisses me back, but after a minute he pulls away. “She’s just really pretty. And funny. And cool.”

I press my forehead against his. “Yeah. She is,” I say. “But talking about pretty girls is definitely not one of the caveats.” 

He laughs, then, and it sounds free, and relieved, and happy. And then he whispers, “You’re right,” and starts kissing me again. 

The girls’ voices are quiet in the tent. I can’t make out any of what they’re saying. Dante keeps kissing me and I keep kissing him back, and eventually he pulls my shirt up with shaking hands. I help him take it off me, and whisper, “You’re my dream come true, Dante Quintana.” Then I take his shirt off, and then his hands go to my belt. I raise my eyebrows.

“We’ve been drinking,” I remind him. “You had a rule.” 

“Fuck rules,” he whispers. “I need you.”

“You have me.”

We’re very quiet, so the girls don’t hear, and we put our boxers and t-shirts back on when we’re done in case they decide to emerge from their tent before morning. I pull the blankets up over us and we cling to each other under the stars. 

“I love you so fucking much,” I whisper. “I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you.”

His eyes are closed, and I watch a smile spread over his face. 

“I love you, too, Ari Mendoza.” His voice is heavy with sleepiness. “I have a confession to make.”

“Hmm?” I ask. My mind is suddenly full of weird thoughts.

“I lied about something.”

Now my mind is definitely full of weird thoughts, and yet I’m not nervous. I’m intrigued by the idea of Dante lying, but I don’t doubt _us_ for a second. 

That’s what his love has done. What _my_ love has done. It’s turned me into a person who doesn’t doubt us for a second.

And then he proves me right. “I said the things I love most in the world are swimming, and you. But that’s not true.” He pulls me tighter against him. “I love you a million times more than swimming. I love you a million times more than anything.” 

We fall asleep entwined, like always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [D'yer Mak'er](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qgucqyr-H7M)


	11. another next day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter that wraps up their camping trip with the girls, and then gives Dante and Ari some much-needed alone time to just chill and be alright.

GINA

No one warned me it would be this fucking cold when I woke up in a tent.

OK, that’s not precisely true. Ari warned me. But I didn’t believe him.

Ari. Ugh. That guy. 

Honestly, I’ve never been so enchanted by someone. He’s gorgeous, sure (especially since he started working out...good lord, he looks like an underwear model or something), and he’s obviously extremely smart, and he’s funny in a weird, accidental way, but none of that is what gets me about him. It’s his enigmatic fuck-the-world vibe. It kills me. Like, I truly think he doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him. Everyone  _ says _ they don’t give a shit what people think of them, but everyone  _ does.  _ Give a shit, I mean. Ari may be the only person I’ve ever met that doesn’t. The moxie that requires is well beyond my comprehension. It blows my mind. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. 

What I didn’t tell him--what I’ll never tell anyone--is that my crush on him started in 5th grade. I don’t think he even knew I existed back then. But truth be told, he’s been That One Guy who’s had my heart all this time.

For a little while last year I thought I might have a chance. We’d both grown up enough that dating was a Thing People Did. And I knew I’d gotten pretty. I mean, fuck it, I’ll just say it. I was a skinny, buck-toothed, pimply 5th grader. And then I glowed up. By the time I was fifteen, I had guys lining up. 

But I just wanted Ari. And the more he pushed me away, the more I wanted him. (What is it with that? It seems unhealthy, but whatevs. It is what it is.)

But when we figured out who the mysterious “Dante” was, and we heard the story about how Ari had literally thrown himself in harm’s way to save him, and we heard about what great friends they were, well. I’m not stupid. 

I still kinda held out hope. I mean, after all that time, who wouldn’t? But I also had this sinking feeling inside, like maybe I’d known all along it was in vain. 

Anyway. It’s fucking cold out here.

I’ve just crawled out of the tent, and then crawled back in to pull on more layers, and now I’m standing outside shivering and wondering how the hell to get a blazing fire going in under a minute. 

My name comes as a sharp whisper from the back of the truck “Gina!” I look up and see Ari sliding out from under the covers in only a t-shirt and boxers. I look away, but then I can’t help myself. I look back.

It touches me to see how he tucks the blankets in around Dante even as he himself shivers. He makes sure Dante is in a little cocoon before he reaches for his sweatshirt and jeans and socks. 

I feel a deep pang of regret. I hope what I said last night didn’t make things weird for them. Pure love is so rare in the world, and they have it. If I was the person who fucked it up, I’d never forgive myself. 

“Let’s get this fire going,” Ari says, jumping out of the truck fully clothed.

“I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure where to start,” I admit. He grins his knockout grin at me, causing my heart to clench in equal parts joy and pain. 

“I’ll show you,” he says, and then proceeds to demonstrate the process. He puts the burnt, dried out pieces from last night in a little pile in the center of the circle. Then he makes a teepee of twigs over it. He finished up by balancing, very carefully, a couple of dry logs on top of the teepee. 

“Light it up,” he says. I pull out my lighter and try to light the teepee. He laughs. “No, no. I’ll show you.” When he takes the lighter from me, our hands brush together, and I swallow so hard I’m sure he can hear me. He lights the burnt pieces and blows on them, and then he hands my lighter back. This time I take it with my fingertips.

We watch the fire for a few minutes. I am swimming in guilt. I somehow managed to hurt Susie and make things awkward with Ari and Dante in one fell swoop. God, I wish I could go back in time and not say what I said.

“You okay?” he asks, after a while.

“I’m great,” I say out of habit. He gives me a look, and I laugh a little humorlessly and look back at the fire.

“It took a lot of courage to say what you did. I admire it,” he says quietly. I swallow again.

“I really hope I didn’t make things weird for you and Dante.”

“You didn’t.” 

I look at him hopefully. He smiles at me, and it’s beautiful. Bright white teeth against light brown skin. Huge dark eyes beneath shaggy black hair. 

“You didn’t, Gina. We’re fine,” he says. The quiet way we’re speaking in the chilly pink morning makes it feel like we’re the only two people in the world. He doesn’t feel that way, though. I know this because he glances over at the mound of blankets in the truck that is his boyfriend, and his smile softens into a look I’ve never had directed at me by anyone. “Dante and I couldn’t be better.”

I believe him, just from the look on his face.

After a minute he looks back at me. “Are you and Susie okay?”

I nod. “We will be. Our friendship is strong.”

He nods, too. “Good.”

He sits down on a log and starts poking at the fire. I sit down next to him, leaving distance between us. I don’t want anything to seem weird when Susie or Dante wake up, and anyway I don’t think I could bear to touch him right now, even accidentally. 

A weird tension starts to build. At first I think it’s just me, the remnants of the intensity of last night hanging on. But after a minute he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry, Gina. If...you know. I hurt you.”

My heart breaks. Because it  _ does _ hurt. It’s awful, really. I don’t want to cry, but I don’t seem to be able to stop myself. At least I’m able to keep it quiet. Just sniffles, really, and a few rough brushes of tears from my cheeks. Then I freeze, because he puts his arm around me. I’m rigid for just a second, and then I kind of melt against his side. He’s as strong as he looks - I can feel how solid he is. Solid, and warm. He never pulls me close or anything, but it’s enough. Just his arm around my shoulders while I cry is enough.

“We’re still friends, right?” he asks. This boy is comforting me in my heartbreak, and that heartbreak is about him. It’s surreal and beautiful and confusing, and it makes me love him all the more. I mean, seriously. How sweet can one person be? 

And to think of his reputation as this badass asshole. People have no idea. 

I smile up at him. “Still friends,” I say. 

He smiles back, then pulls his arm away and gets up and starts heating water. I can’t help but feel that that was it. That was the most of Ari I’m ever going to get.

And somehow, that’s okay. Turns out having the boy you’re crazy about also be the friend that holds you when you’re crying over the boy you’re crazy about makes things okay. I mean, it still hurts. But not the same way.

“Coffee or hot cocoa?” he asks. 

  
  


DANTE

When I wake up, I hear the murmur of quiet voices. I sit up slowly, keeping the blankets clutched around me, and see Gina and Ari by the fire. His arm is around her, and she’s leaning into him. For a second my stomach clenches with jealousy, but it’s only a second. I know Ari as well as I know myself, and I can tell by his posture that he’s not actually embracing her. Not the way he embraces me when  _ I’m _ crying. He’s just being kind. 

He’s the most amazing guy in the world, I swear. 

I want to get up and get dressed, but I don’t feel like I should interrupt whatever moment they’re having. So I lay back down and watch the leaves dancing gently against the sky and smile, because that amazing guy is in love with me and that makes me the luckiest guy in the universe.

After a bit I hear movement, so I sit up again and see him crouched by the fire with mugs and a jar of instant coffee and a jar of instant hot cocoa. “Coffee or hot cocoa?” I hear him ask Gina, and I pipe up. 

“Hot cocoa, please!”

His eyes land on me and when they do, they light up. There’s no mistaking it. I beam back at him, and then glance at Gina, who’s turned around and smiling tentatively at me. I return her smile with warmth, because she needs warmth right now. She’s a sweet girl. She doesn’t deserve romantic heartbreak or platonic tumult, even though that’s all that’s on her plate at the moment. 

I get dressed and go join them, and we drink our hot beverages and joke around a little until Susie emerges. She’s moving gingerly, as though her pain is in her bones, and I guess maybe it is. I remember the pain I was in after that disastrous first kiss with Ari. It was, indeed, as deep as my bones. Just seeing her like that makes me reach for Ari instinctively. He immediately takes my hand. I feel so unspeakably lucky. Both of those girls are so damn sad. And I’m sad for them. But for myself, and for Ari, I’m so, so happy. 

I glance at Gina and see that she’s on the verge of tears again, but she doesn’t shed them. Instead she goes over to Susie and silently wraps her in a hug. After a second, Susie hugs her back. 

“You guys want to head out soon?” Ari asks, and I’m pretty sure the looks of relief on the girls’ faces mirror that of my own. Things will be okay--I can feel it--but at this moment, the awkwardness is at an all-time high. 

So we pack up and squeeze back into the truck, and I put some Bob Marley on because we all need to be reassured that every little thing is gonna be alright, and we go home. 

“What do you want to do with the rest of the day?” I ask Ari, once the girls have driven off and it’s just him and me in his bedroom. Since we got up practically at dawn, it’s early. Like 10:30 in the morning early. The weekend has barely begun, when you think about it.

He collapses on his bed. 

“Be with you,” he says simply, holding his arms out in my general direction, his eyes closed. I fall into them and he pulls me close. 

“That was so sweet, Ari,” I say against his neck. “How you were with Gina this morning.” 

He nuzzles into my hair. “I feel so sorry for both of them,” he says. I nod. 

Then we just lay there, and his bed is so soft and warm compared to the back of the truck, and I’m just so unspeakably relieved to be where I am right now. In his bed. In his arms. 

  
  


ARI

I guess we fell asleep earlier, because my mom just woke us up to see if we wanted food. 

Sometimes I really love my mom. My stomach is rumbling. She assures us there will be lunch ready in a few minutes and heads back downstairs. 

Dante is looking drowsy, his eyelids heavy and his face relaxed. It’s one of my favorite things to see. I kiss his temple and he leans into me.

“You still sure you’re not attracted to Gina?” he asks, and I growl and roll over onto him, pinning him beneath me. 

“If you bring that up again, Dante, I swear…” I can see that he was teasing by the way his eyes are dancing. He’s waiting expectantly, playfully, to see what the consequence will be, and he looks like he’s having a blast. I suppress a smile and narrow my eyes instead. “You’ll owe me a favor,” I finish.

He gives me a wicked grin. “What kind of favor?” 

“Your choice,” I whisper.

“Are you sure you’re not into Gina?” 

It’s really not my fault that I have to kiss him senseless. 

  
  


DANTE

After lunch, we decide to go to a movie. On a whim, I suggest we take the bus.

“For old time’s sake,” I say, and he laughs. 

For all the buses we took together that first summer, this is the first time we’ve been on one since we got together. We don't make up stories about the people on the bus this time. This time, we make our own story. He holds my hand the whole time. Some business-man guy sneers at us, and Ari’s response is to lean over and kiss my neck. I’m not expecting it, so I let out a squeal and jump. He laughs.

“I love your voice,” he whispers in my ear.

“I didn’t even say anything,” I counter, and his smirk is going to kill me.

“You made a sound. That counts.”

“You are extremely gay, do you know that?” I ask, and he laughs so loudly the business man turns to glare at us.

“I figured it out, thanks to this smoking hot guy who won’t leave me alone.” 

And then we’re straight up making out on a city bus. I don’t know which stop the angry business man gets out on, but when we get to the movie theatre and finally untangle ourselves, he’s nowhere to be seen. 

Ari holds my hand the whole movie. “You’ve definitely made friends with ‘demonstrative,’” I whisper. He leans his head back against the seat and looks over at me.

“I love you,” is his response. 

I think I may die of joy.

  
  


ARI

We go to Dante’s house after the movie. It’s still a while until dinner, so we pass the time by reading. Meaning, he’s propped up against his headboard and I’m nestled between his legs, my back against his chest, reading aloud to him. 

At first it’s just that. He feels so good, all wrapped around me, his arms around my stomach, his body warm against my own. But after a while he starts nuzzling my head, and kissing my temple and my cheekbone and my jaw.

I stop reading and turn my head just a bit, catching his lips with mine. We kiss for a minute and then I put the book down and say, “We don’t have to read, if you’d rather do something else.” Pretty cheeky of me, I’ll admit, but he makes me playful. 

He shakes his head. “Please keep reading. I just want to love on you while you do it.”

What a perfect thing to hear. I pick up the book and keep reading, and he keeps kissing on me. It makes my stomach do crazy acrobatic things, and my skin is prickling all over, but I keep on reading because he asked me to. At one point I do stop, though, because his incessant affection is almost more than I can bear. 

“Do you ever feel like your heart is going to explode?” I didn’t realize I was going to ask him that.

He answers without missing a beat. “All the time.”

I turn my face to him again. He kisses my eyebrows. “The only thing that’s keeping me sane right now is knowing I have the rest of my life with you. Otherwise I think I’d be going mad with...longing,” I whisper.

“Longing for what, Ari?”

I huff out a laugh. “I don’t even know. To possess you completely.” I laugh again. “That sounds psycho. I don’t mean it like it sounds.”

“I understand,” Dante says. “And you do. You always will.”

Suddenly, out of the blue, an idea hits me. I know how I want to propose. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Three Little Birds by Bob Marley](https://youtu.be/zaGUr6wzyT8)
> 
> So when I was 17, I was in love with a boy who was one of my best friends. I finally told him, though I knew he didn't reciprocate my feelings. It was a rough day. He held me for a long time after I told him, which was strange and surreal - he was comforting me as a friend, over a boy who had broken my heart, but he was also that boy. Something about how much sweetness he showed me eased the sadness I'd been feeling for a long time. We're still close friends to this day. Anyway that scene between Gina & Ari was a nice little walk down memory lane :)


	12. the new job(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante gets a new job. Ari does, too.

DANTE   


So, somewhat on a whim, I get a job at this pizza restaurant. 

It’s not really a whim. Ari and I have been talking about getting jobs again, so we can have money to spend on each other. We both assure the other it’s not necessary, but we both want to do it, so there’s really not much to debate. (We debate it anyway, of course. I think we just like bantering.)

Anyway, on a very rare day when I’m doing anything that doesn’t involve Ari other than school (we seriously spend every second of free time together; sometimes I wonder if it’s healthy, but then I remind myself we’re making up for lost time and put the worry out of my head), I walk past the pizza joint that’s on the other side of the park and see a “Now Hiring” sign in the window. That’s what’s a whim about it...I just walk right in and apply. 

The manager is this young white guy with a friendly face and a perfect mullet. He tells me they desperately need cooks, so that’s the box I check on my application where it lists all the positions for which one can apply. I take it back up to the counter and the manager says, “If you can wait about five minutes, I can interview you right now,” so I go sit down at a booth and wait. 

After a while he comes over and sits down and introduces himself (his name is Freddy), and asks me why I want to work there. I decide that I don’t want to be somewhere where I can’t be myself, so I throw all caution to the wind and say, “To be perfectly honest, I need to make some money because I have a boyfriend I’m totally nuts over, and I want to be able to spend money on him sometimes.”

Freddy just stares at me for a second, and I wonder if he’s about to kick me out of the restaurant. Then he blinks and says, “Interesting. I’ve never heard that before.” He chuckles and adds, “Most people say they love pizza and love the vibe here and a bunch of other bullshit. I appreciate your honesty.”

I look around. The vibe is pretty cool, I have to admit. The place is fifties-style and horror-movie themed, so along with checkered tile flooring and a lot of chrome, there’s a bunch of black and white horror movie posters. “It  _ is _ a cool vibe,” I agree, and smile at him. “But to be honest, I’ve never been in here before, and I’m Mexican, so I didn’t really grow up on pizza the way a lot of people did. I like it fine, though. I mean, pizza’s great.” I shrug. “But the reason I want to work here is because you’re hiring.” 

Freddy laughs again. “I dig it. You’re hired. Not as a cook, though. You’d be better suited as a waiter.”

“A waiter? What about your desperate need for cooks?” 

“It’s real, man. But I think you’d be more suited for waiting tables. You’re clearly a people person, which is what we need. You’ll make tips,” he added, like I needed to be convinced. The truth is, I was delighted. Being a waiter seemed fun.

After Ari’s school let out (mine had a teacher workday, and since it’s private, it’s not lined up with the public school schedule, hence my unusual free time without him), he came by my house and I told him I’d gotten a job. He was really enthusiastic.

“So you did it.” He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I cock one back. He laughs. “That’s great, Dante. When do you start?”

“Tonight,” I say sadly, because that’s the bad part. It’s Friday, and we usually spend Friday nights together. He grimaces.

“Well, we knew that would happen once we got jobs,” he says, and he’s right. We had discussed that reality, that jobs would eat into our time together. “I just need to get a job that will align my schedule with yours.”

“And transfer to my school,” I add, because since he mentioned that a few weeks ago, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. My school is small enough that everyone in the same grade has lunch at the same time, and most people have the same classes together, so if he went there we could conceivably be together all day long. 

“Why don’t you transfer to  _ my _ school?” he teases. “Gina and Susie are there. We’d have a blast.”

He’s got a point. Since we went camping with them, hanging out with Gina and Susie has become a regular thing. The first few days after the camping trip, things were tense between them, but they didn’t stop hanging out. Lately, things have felt normal, except that Susie now flirts with Gina and Gina flirts right back, and it’s kind of adorable. Like, they both know nothing’s going to happen, but I think it’s Susie’s way of just being real, and getting a taste of what she wants, and it’s Gina’s way of demonstrating that she’s not scared off in the least. It’s really kind of beautiful, when you think about it. 

“Swim team,” I remind him, and he acts surprised, as if we haven’t had this conversation several times now. 

“You swim? Nice,” he teases, and I shove him, and then we make out until it’s time for me to go to work. 

He drops me off. “What time do you get off?” he asks. 

“I don’t know. It closes at 10, so not much later than that, I assume. What are you going to do tonight?”

“I dunno. Susie asked if we wanted to come with them to a movie. But it wouldn’t let out until after 10, and I want to pick you up, so I’ll probably just hang out at home and read,” he says.

“You don’t need to pick me up, Ari. I don’t even know for sure when I’m getting off. They may let me go earlier. I’m two blocks from my house--I can walk. Just call me when you get out of the movie, okay?” I don’t think it’s even occurred to either of us that we wouldn’t spend the night together. It’s Friday night. There’s no way we’re sleeping in separate beds, and we both know it. 

He eyes me for a second, then says, “Have fun, love.” I beam at him because my heart swells right out of my chest when he calls me that, and I kiss him quickly and jump out of the truck.

  
  


ARI

Dante seriously thinks I’m going to run off to a movie with the girls and let him walk home. There’s no way that’s going to happen. To be honest, I’m a little nervous about him walking alone at night. I’m surprised he’s  _ not  _ nervous. We’re not exactly sneaking around, and I’m sure there’s got to be several guys around town that have seen us holding hands or kissing and want to kick both our asses. No one’s going to fuck with me--this I know--but Dante, walking alone at night? That’s a different story. 

I mean, even if we hadn’t made out in broad daylight on countless occasions, Dante just kind of  _ exudes  _ gay. I don’t know how else to describe it. I think the average person would look at me and assume I’m straight, and that same person would look at Dante and assume he’s gay. I don’t know what that means about either of us--I don’t think he’s any more gay than me--but it’s just true. The only point being that even if nobody we know spots him, he could still be in danger from a carload of half-drunk frat boys that just happen to drive past. 

So, yeah. He’s not walking home alone. I’m kinda surprised his parents okay’d the idea, but then I remember I was with him all afternoon, and he never told them he was going to walk home. They probably assume I’m going to pick him up. 

It sucks that any of us even need to think about this shit, but we do.

Anyway, all that aside, I had a date planned for us. An important one. And I’m not about to throw that plan out the window just because he’s working until 10.

  


DANTE 

The pizza place is pretty fun, actually. At first Freddy has me shadowing this waitress named Sara, but around seven the place fills up and he tells me to just go for it. “Just start with tables one, two, and three. Sara can handle the rest. If you need help ringing in the orders, just ask.” So I just go for it, and I think I do pretty well. I love talking to the different people who come sit in my section. Every table is different, and every single one is interesting in one way or another. The tips start rolling in, too. Within an hour I’ve made more than I would’ve made if I was being paid minimum wage. (Since I’m a waiter, my minimum wage is less; I’m only paid $1.68 an hour, but the tips make up for it).

I spend all my downtime telling Sara about Ari. I know it’s probably annoying, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She keeps giving me this patient smile, and at some point it occurs to me that it’s the same smile I think she’d give me if I went on and on about a girlfriend. 

I’m happy to say this place seems pretty gay-friendly.

Ari comes waltzing in about ten minutes before closing. The last few customers are finishing up their meals. Freddy asked me to stay so I could see what closing involved.

When Ari walks in, Freddy rolls his eyes and mutters quietly, “Great. A customer. We’ve already shut half the kitchen down.”

I’m smiling ear to ear. “He’s not a customer,” I say as he approaches the counter. As always, colors seem brighter and I have a burst of energy, just from his presence. I want so much to lean over the counter and kiss him, but I don’t. I have no idea how that would go over in the workplace, but I’m pretty sure it’s not allowed. 

“No movie, huh?” I ask. Ari grins at me. Then I turn to Freddy.

“This is Ari. Ari, Freddy.” Ari sticks out his hand and Freddy steps forward and shakes it, smirking. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says. Ari smiles politely at him and turns his full attention back to me.

“What are you doing here? I thought we decided I was going to walk.”

He nods, slowly.  _ “You _ decided that.” 

I laugh. I guess I should be annoyed, but I don’t seem to have it in me. 

“I don’t want you to walk,” he says simply, and I immediately understand.

“Okay,” I whisper, a little choked up. Suddenly I’m aware that Freddy is still standing there, watching us. I glance over at him and he meets my eye and gives me this funny half-smile. I smile back, fully. 

“I can wait in the truck,” Ari says. “I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”

“You don’t have to,” Freddy interjects. “I’m just about to lock up so we can finish closing, but you’re welcome to hang out in here with us if you don’t mind us working around you.”

“I’ll help. What needs to be done?” Ari asks. I beam at him. He notices, and beams back.

“It’s my job, Ari,” I say, smiling ear to ear, and he sighs the most adorable put-out sigh.

“Okay, but if you let me help you, you’ll get out of here quicker, and then…” he glances at Freddy and his face gets flushed. Freddy just chuckles and heads back into the kitchen.

“And then you’ll get me all to yourself that much faster?” I finish for him, once we’re alone. He meets my eyes.

“Exactly.”

“Okay then.” I look at the list Sara made for me on the back of a ticket. “Will you put the chairs on the tables?”

So he does, and I try to focus on wiping down the countertop, but I can’t keep my eyes off him. The chairs are kind of heavy - I wasn’t looking forward to heaving them around - but Ari scoops them up one-handed and flips them upside down onto the tabletops like they barely weigh a thing. Every single time, his biceps bulge against the arm of his white t-shirt, which already fits him in this delectably snug way. It’s a gorgeous sight.

“Okay, loverboy, focus,” Freddy says suddenly, and I realize he’s been watching me watch Ari for a minute. I laugh a little and go back to wiping things down. Ari comes over and leans on the countertop. He reminds me of a greaser from a 50s movie (how apropos) and it totally turns me on.

“Done. Next?” he says. 

“You really want to help?” Freddy asks him.

“I really do,” Ari says. 

“Come on back here, then. My main cook quit a couple of days ago and I’ve been running the kitchen myself. I could use some help closing it down.”

Ari follows him into the kitchen, shooting me an electric smile on his way. I melt into a puddle.

“ _ That’s  _ your boyfriend?” Sara hisses in my ear. “Holy shit.”

“I told you he was gorgeous,” I remind her. 

“Yeah, but everyone says that about their boyfriend. He actually _ is.” _

I laugh, feeling incredibly happy and incredibly proud. I can’t help myself. “You should see him naked,” I whisper, and leave her slack-jawed and wide-eyed, staring after me as I go to sweep the dining room.

  


ARI

I help Freddy with all the closing down stuff. It’s not that much different from the Charcoaler, really. We have to dismantle all the equipment and clean it and put it back together, and turn everything off, and make sure all the dishes are washed, and sweep and scrub the floors, and see that certain things are stocked for the morning. He tells me what needs to be done and I set to work.

“You know your way around a kitchen,” he says after a while. We’d been working in silence up until that point, which I really appreciated. There’s nothing better than someone who doesn’t talk just to hear himself talk.

“I worked at the Charcoaler for almost a year,” I tell him. He nods.

A little while later he says, “Dante’s pretty crazy about you.”

That makes me blush. I’m glad I’m leaned halfway into the pizza oven, wiping it down, so he doesn’t see. “He mentioned me?” I ask.

Freddy laughs. “That’s one way to put it. He told me in his interview that he wanted to work here so he could make money to spend on you.” He laughs again. “He’s a fascinating person. Very self-possessed.” 

I pull myself out of the oven and start wiping down the outside, but first I shoot him a grin, mostly because he’s being sweet about Dante. “Yeah, he’s incredible,” I say. Freddy grins back. 

I’m so happy for Dante, that he found such a great place to work. He deserves to be somewhere he can be himself. 

  


DANTE

When we’re leaving, Freddy offers Ari a job.

“For real?” Ari and I ask in unison, then we look at each other and laugh. Freddy laughs, too.

“Yeah, man. You were great tonight. Do you mind back-of-house? You said you did that at your last job, and you did so great tonight I don’t even feel like I need to train you, so...”

“I don’t mind a bit,” Ari says. “It’s my preference.”

“Perfect. Can you guys come at five tomorrow night?” Freddy shoots me a grin, and I know it’s no accident that he’s aligning our schedules.

I really like my manager.

Ari and I glance at each other, then say, “Yeah,” once again in unison. Freddy laughs.

“Oh my god. Get out of here, you too.”

“Yeah, take your constant state of romance out of here before we all die of needing to puke,” Sara calls, sticking her head out of the bathroom that she’s cleaning. 

“I love you already,” I call, and she flips me off. 

Definitely off to a good start at the new hustle. 

  


But that’s just the beginning of the best night of my life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK y'all, we'll get to Gina & Susie some more later. I'm not brushing them under the rug or anything. I just got inspired because...
> 
> I've actually had this chapter half-written for, like, a year. It's based on the pizza place where I used to work, and let me tell you, the chairs are freaking heavy when you're swinging them upside down onto the tables. I was always wishing I had an Ari to come do it for me. But yeah, the whole 50s-style horror-movie themed deal? Totally a real thing.
> 
> Also, I needed to refocus on the boys because some important shit is right on the horizon...
> 
> Also (PSA/rant warning), in case anyone doesn't know, the server (aka waiter/waitress) wage used to be half minimum wage (which was the case for Dante), but stalled at $2.13/hour years ago. That's still what servers make in this country, so we rely on tips for our income. If there's only one place in your life that you're extravagant, make it tipping. (Thanks for coming to my TED talk ;))


	13. night swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Possibly the most romantic chapter of the entire two stories thus far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has a NSFW "extended scene" that fits into it, if you're interested :) It can be found here: [He Wants to Marry Me.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393964) There is an asterisk in the story at the spot where it goes...

ARI

When we get to where we’re going, Dante just looks at me. He’s still wearing his pizza place t-shirt, but he took off the pizza place ball cap. Which is too bad, really; he looked adorable in it. I’m glad I’ll get to see him in it on a regular basis, now that we’re going to be working together.

I still can’t believe my luck about that. Not only that I got offered a job without even having to apply, but because I’ll get to work with Dante. We thought working would pull us in different directions, give us little separate realities that the other was not a part of. But because life is apparently wonderful (who knew), we get to share that particular reality, and hang out together while we’re at it.

Anyway, when I pull up to the pool, I don’t park in the lot; I drive my truck around to the back of the little rec center and park in the shadows. I’d rather not attract attention. I want Dante to myself tonight, and I don’t want to be interrupted. Or caught trespassing.

I put the truck into park and turn off the ignition, silencing the U2 song that was playing, and look over at Dante. He’s looking at me, a little awestruck, and I kiss him. He kisses me back wholeheartedly, like he always does. 

DANTE

I don’t know why Ari brought me to the pool. It’s been closed for a couple of weeks now. The weather is still warm enough to swim, but most people just don’t after school gets back into session. Plus most of the lifeguards are either in high school or college, so I guess it just makes sense to shut the whole operation down. They haven't drained it yet, though. They continue to have private swim lessons here until October or something.

Anyway the point is, the pool is closed. Even if it wasn't September, it would be closed at this hour. There’s a padlocked chain around the gate. I assume we’re sneaking in, which is fine with me except I don’t have a suit with me. I suddenly wonder if Ari wants us to go skinny dipping. My heart accelerates at the thought, because if we got caught trespassing I’m pretty sure being nude would compound the problem, but honestly? I don’t care. I’ll take the risk to go skinny-dipping with Ari in the pool where we first met. It’s devastatingly romantic, really. He’s really making sure he fulfills his “best-boyfriend-ever” part of the plan. 

I look at him, unable to speak. He looks at me. Then, without a word, he leans over and starts kissing me, and I kiss him back. 

I love him almost more than I can bear. 

Turns out he brought a suit for me (half my clothes are at his house), and one for himself as well. (I’m still going to press for skinny-dipping. I can’t get the thought out of my head now.) He also brought towels and a picnic. My sardonic, half-nihilistic boyfriend brought a goddamn picnic. In a _basket,_ no less. He is literally the biggest closet romantic I’ve ever met. 

Not that I’m going to say that. It would embarrass him. I’m just going to enjoy it.

My heart is pounding so hard I can literally hear it. I wonder if he can, too. We clamber over the fence (somehow he manages to do it gracefully while holding the basket and the bag with the suits and towels) (did I mention that my boyfriend is a god?), and he spreads our comforter and quilt out in the shadows. (He tossed those over before scaling the fence.) 

He starts unpacking the picnic and I need to touch him, so I crawl up behind him and put my legs on either side of him and press my chest into his back, my arms wrapped around his middle. He turns his head and gives me a quick, firm kiss. No hesitation in it. (There’s never hesitation in his kisses. It makes my heart soar like nothing else, ever.) There’s a streetlight several hundred yards away, and other than the moon and stars, it’s our only light. The moon is thin tonight, too, and the stars not as vibrant as they are in the desert. The details of his face are lost in shadow, but when his eyes meet mine, they sparkle, and when he smiles at me, his teeth shine white. I nudge my nose against his cheekbone as he continues to unpack food.

“What do you have here?” I ask him quietly. There’s no one around to hear us, but still. This night feels reverent. It’s a night for quiet voices.

He reaches back with one hand, puts it against the side of my neck. My stomach flips over. (Will I ever get over his touch?)

“Just some snacks,” he says, sounding a little shy. There are strawberries and raspberries and soft cheese and water crackers. There’s a can of Coke for me and a can of Liptons for him. There’s a bottle of Champagne, too, I notice, but it’s still in the basket. Where the hell did he get Champagne? And why? I quickly run through our history in my head and nope, it’s not an anniversary of anything in particular. I was settling into Chicago this time last year.

Doesn’t matter. He’s too much, and it’s perfect. 

“Do you have any idea,” I say as I’m sliding around him and crawling into his lap, wrapping my legs and my arms around him, “how completely, maddeningly, deliriously in love with you I am?” It’s a redundant question and we both know it, so I don’t even give him time to respond before I’m kissing him full-force. He kisses me right back, returning my enthusiasm like it’s a contest. Who can kiss the hardest, who can pull the other against him the tightest, who can thread fingers into hair the most sensually. Neither of us are willing to lose.

It’s like a contest, but not. Mostly, it’s a dream come true. 

ARI 

I’ve got so much to say to Dante, but all I want to do is kiss him. Touch him. He saved my life.

DANTE 

Ari’s kissing me in that way he does sometimes, where he seems like he’s trying to tell me something. He _is_ telling me something, in his language. I kiss him back, and let him pull off my shirt and slide his hands across my ribs, up my back, into my hair. I let him hold my face while his tongue licks into my mouth and he articulates everything he wants to say.

He’s quite fluent in his language. And he’s a good teacher. I’m getting quite fluent myself. 

“This is the most romantic thing we’ve ever done,” I say a little later, in between raspberries. He grins at me as he sucks strawberry juice off his fingers in the sexiest way possible. (I don’t think he means it to be sexy, but dear Jesus is it ever.) We’re both shirtless from making out, and the air on my skin is warm in this really soft, end-of-summer way. We’re sitting cross-legged, face to face, our knees pressed against each other’s. There’s something so magical about being here with him, alone and in the dark. It feels like the ghost of that first day is here, too.

That day, when we’d bonded over our names, and laughed because we were so fucking relieved to have finally found each other, and I felt like someone finally _got_ me. I mean, my parents got me, but that wasn’t enough anymore. And as for everyone else I’d ever met, they seemed to like me but also not really know what to do with me. And then here was this brooding, beautiful guy and he _got_ me, I could feel it. And then I taught him how to breath as he moved through deep water, and I knew he knew that I got him, too. 

I look out at the pool. It is still, and black. The lights inside aren’t on, so it’s just this flat plane of darkness. It’s beautiful.

“It’s kinda magical, being here with you like this,” I murmur. “It feels like...I don’t know. Like the energy of that first day still lingers here. Like...we’d been living our whole lives just waiting to finally meet, and then we did, and it made some kind of...imprint…” I laugh at myself and start to ask, “Am I making any sense?” but I don’t finish the question because I look at him.

He looks terrified. He’s holding his body taut and his eyes are huge, and I can see how hard it is for him to swallow because of how his Adam’s apple moves when he does it. Just the look on his face makes my stomach drop. Did I say something wrong? I can’t believe that after everything, that would have been too much, but...

Then he blinks, and a little smile peeks through his fear. “That’s…” his voice cracks in this totally uncharacteristic way, and he swallows and starts again. “That’s why we’re here.” He reaches over and takes my hand, and as my fingers close around his I feel something in his palm. Keeping our fingers laced, I turn our hands palm-up and open them just enough to see.

Oh.

In our hands are two solid silver bands.

My heart has stopped. 

I look up at him slowly, and I have no words. I can’t quit smiling. 

He swallows. “Well, you know. I was thinking about how to handle it. I mean, if you were a girl, I’d give you a diamond, but…” And then he seems to run out of words, and he just takes a huge breath and looks at me and swallows again. 

I don’t know if my heart has stopped or just straight up exploded.

I squeal and tackle him, clutching the rings tight in my fist, and he falls onto his back with me on top of him, kissing him all over his face and neck. He’s laughing, freely, wildly, and his arms are like a vice around me as he rolls us over so that I’m underneath him. He leans his face to mine, his hair falling like a shaggy curtain around us. 

“Is that a yes, then?” he asks, and his eyes have gone from terrified to joyful. I laugh, too, feeling slightly hysterical.

“You didn’t ask me a question,” I tease, and that’s when I realize I’m crying. 

He rolls his eyes. _“Seriously?_ You _know_ what I just asked you.” Then he kisses the tears that just slipped down my temples. 

“You didn’t use words, though.” I tangle my fingers into his hair.

“It's hard.” He kisses the tears from the corners of my eyes. The simplicity of that - of him admitting words are hard - breaks my heart. Mostly because he uses words with me so _much_ now. To make me happy. To show me himself.

“I want to hear them, Ari.” He lifts his face to look into mine. “Ask me with words, and I’ll answer you in your language. _And_ with words.” He laughs, a little wildly. “How about that?”

He looks drunk, which is how I feel. Drunk from the overwhelming adoration and completely impossible depth of love uniting us right now. 

It unites us every day.

He lifts himself up and sits back on his heels and looks me directly in the eyes. I push myself up onto my elbows and smile at him. He takes a deep breath, then takes the rings from me. He holds them up against the sky, squinting at them in the starlight. His hands are shaking. After a second, he hands one back to me and maneuvers himself so that he’s on his knees, still hovering over me. He takes my right hand, slipping the ring he kept onto my ring finger. Ah. 

He takes a deep breath. “Dante Quintana, will you marry me?”

I let the words sink in. Store them away in my deepest heart so that they are mine, forever.

I slide the ring in my palm onto his right ring finger. I smile up at him again. 

“Yes, Aristotle Mendoza. I will marry you.” 

And then I pull him back down on top of me and answer him again, in his language.*

ARI

The streetlight switched off a while ago. I guess it’s gotten late, and it was on a timer. Or maybe the universe just found it fitting that we’d only be under the stars tonight. 

I don't know why I got so freaked out when the moment finally came. I _knew_ he'd say yes. It was just...I don't know. It was like jumping off a cliff. I knew I'd land safely at the bottom...I knew that where I'd land was the safest place of all...and yet I still had to experience that singular moment of _jumping_.

Dante and I are sweaty, and sticky, and exhausted, and giddy. I’m tracing patterns on his chest, and he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. Kisses my fingertips, one by one. Kisses the ring on my finger. “Tell me about these rings,” he says. “I mean, I love it, but it’s, you know, not typical.”

I laugh. “Well. Like I said, if you were a girl, I’d give you a diamond. But it seemed weird to give you a diamond ring. I couldn’t quite imagine how that would look.” Dante laughs. He sounds so happy, and it’s glorious. It makes me smile. “Plus I couldn’t exactly afford it. But I wanted to give you something. As a symbol, I guess. That I’m promising to give my whole self to you. I _have_ given my whole self to you.” I can only say these words without stumbling because I’ve thought them through so many times. “So then I thought, a chain for around your neck. But I felt like maybe that wasn’t allowed for swimming. It might, I don’t know. Get in your face when you jump in or something.” He laughs again. “Also it felt kinda weird for you to have a symbol, but not me, since we’re equals. And that made me realize how fucked up and patriarchal the gender norms are.”

He busts out laughing. He rolls himself into me and laughs into my neck so hard it gets me laughing, too. “Oh my God, you are the _perfect_ person for me, Ari Mendoza,” he cries, and his voice has that high-pitched ring it gets sometimes that has always made my stomach do flips. I’m so far gone on him, I swear. How I managed to deny it to myself for an entire year will forever blow my mind. 

“I love your voice,” I whisper, and then I kiss him because I can’t not.

DANTE

“OK, so you never finished telling me,” I say. Our conversation keeps getting interrupted by our inability to keep our hands off each other. 

“About what?” Ari asks. He’s lying on his back, one arm bent and cushioning his head, and his biceps are so accentuated, it distracts me. I reach over and start trailing my fingers over the curves of his upper arm, and when I do it, I see the ring on my finger, which releases a thousand butterflies inside me and brings me back to the conversation.

“The rings. So you wanted us both to have a symbol of commitment. But how did you figure out my ring size? And do you plan for us to have a ring on both hands after we get married?”

_After we get married._ God, what miraculous words to be saying.

He chuckles, seeming pleased with himself. It absolutely melts me. 

“About that. I don’t know if this is normal or not, but we both have the same ring size for our right and left ring fingers. So I thought we could, you know. Switch them over to our left hands. When the time comes.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “If you want.”

_If I want._ Like he has any doubt at all about what that is. This guy’s a comedian, I swear.

“I love the idea, Ari. It’s perfect.” I twine my fingers through his, and he twines back so that our hands start doing this sensual twisting dance with each other. “But how did you know my ring size?”

“I measured your fingers when you were asleep.”

I sit up and look down at him. 

“You what?”

He pushes himself up on his elbows. “Does it upset you?”

“Upset me? Ari, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” I’m starting to cry again. I don’t mean to, but I’m just so overwhelmed. I’ve never felt so loved. And I don’t mean because he measured my fingers when I was asleep. I mean, I do...that’s what’s got me crying again. Because it’s the _thought_ that went into it all. He really thought this through. Planned it out. I’d have agreed to marry him if he just asked me on a total whim, but the fact that he went to so much effort...I don’t know. It just kills me. In the best possible way. 

I feel cracked open. Exposed. Vulnerable. And so completely safe. 

ARI

It’s not until we’ve made love for a second time that I remember the champagne. I brought plastic cups, which is lame as hell, but honestly I’d almost forgotten cups at all. I had to swing by the drug store on the way to the pizza joint to pick some up. 

Dante doesn’t mind. In fact, he seems delighted by the plastic cups, but then Dante is delighted by everything I do. Which is kind of crazy, when you think about it. I mean, it’s _me._ Ari Mendoza. How _I_ manage to delight the most amazing guy in the universe is beyond my comprehension. It seems like a fantasy. 

But to hear him tell it, _I’m_ the most amazing guy in the universe. Which is _completely_ crazy. But I’m not fighting it anymore. If he doesn’t realize how utterly out of my league he is, I’m not going to try to convince him. 

Anyway, he’s my best friend, so in a weird way he’s not out of my league. Because he’s...I don’t know. Part of my soul, or something.

OK so I guess the champagne is going to my head. I set down my cup and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Wanna go for a swim?”

He looks like he’s melting into a puddle, which is how I’ve been feeling all night. I don’t know. He’s just looked particularly perfect tonight. I mean, his face has always been perfect. I’ve always thought so. (Seriously. I had those thoughts even back when I was in total denial. “His face is perfect.” “His voice is like a song.” If I’d bothered to examine them for even one minute, I would have known.) 

“Yes. But not in the suits.” 

I laugh. We’re both naked already because of what we’ve been getting up to, so the idea of skinny dipping doesn’t feel weird in the least. 

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

His eyes are dancing.

I stand up and take off at a run, cannonballing into the deep end. I come up for air just in time to see him swan-dive with perfect form. I take a deep breath and slip back beneath the surface so that, as he’s coming up, I’m right there. He slows his ascent and meets my eyes in the water. Even underwater, even with only stars, we can see each other clearly. We look at each other for a second, then he pushes towards me and kisses me. Underwater.

I feel like I might drown, because I don’t want to stop kissing him, but I also need to breathe. 

I remember his letter that said he was going to drown me, and then he’d give me mouth-to-mouth and revive me. 

I remember telling my mom that I’d found someone to help me keep my promise not to drown.

This is who we are. It’s what we’ve been doing since the beginning. 

He saved my life. And I saved his.

We surface together, gasping for air. We’re both giddy and laughing and clutching each other.

“Again,” I say, and he grins and takes a huge breath and slips beneath the surface. I take a deep breath and follow him. And this time we stay under, kissing each other deeply, all chlorine and berries and champagne, until I start to feel like I’m about to black out and have to surface again. He comes up with me, his arms never unlooping from around my neck.

We’re both breathing heavily, treading water and clinging to each other. 

He presses his forehead to mine.

“Again,” he says. 

“I can’t breathe.”

Like he'd been reading my mind, he whispers, “I won’t let you drown, Ari.”

“I know.” We breathe each other’s air. “I won’t let you drown, either.” 

He smiles. 

We slip back under.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a post on Tumblr recently that said something like "thank you to SKAM for making swimming pools gay again just in time for the Ari & Dante movie." LMAO.
> 
> Anyway I borrowed from SKAM again, because the underwater scenes are just


	14. waking up engaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very, very short chapter about being engaged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading this, thank you for your incredible patience. I haven't updated for a couple of months because it was my last semester in college, I was taking six classes, and I have done literally nothing but schoolwork for way too long. I'll be updating again soon, as I have holiday ideas that must get told here in holiday time (I haven't forgotten Ari & Dante's planned trip to Manhattan at Christmas time!).

DANTE

I wake up because I hear the door shut. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Ari, standing against my bedroom door, flushed and wide-eyed. “Your parents,” he breathes.

I’m still much too asleep for this. “What?” I mumble, pushing myself into a sitting position and rubbing my eyes. Damn, he looks good. I shake my head a little because I probably shouldn’t be thinking that, what with not knowing why he’s acting like he just saw a ghost and talking about my parents at the crack of dawn, but I mean...damn. 

“Your parents,” he says again, and then he kind of shudders and crosses the room to collapse onto the bed, pulling me back down beside him. 

“What about them? And where were you?” Last thing I remember, we were falling asleep in each other’s arms, wet hair smelling like chlorine. I take a little sniff. He still smells faintly like chlorine. I touch my right ring finger with my thumb, twisting the ring there. 

Last night was not a dream, then. Happiness blossoms inside me.

“I went down to get coffee and they were making breakfast and they saw my ring. The minute I walked into the room. Literally, Dante. It’s like they were looking for it.”

I laugh and wrestle him closer to me. “They probably were. They’ve probably been checking our hands every time we walk in the room for weeks, expecting us to elope at any moment.” He laughs too, shakily. “So. What did you tell them?”

He turns his head to look at me, his face an inch away. His eyes are still huge. “I told them the truth.” 

“Excellent. What did they say?”

“They took turns hugging me for ten minutes straight. They were crying. Both of them, Dante. I forgot to get coffee.”

“Ah, so that’s why you look so overwhelmed. Too much hugging and crying first thing in the morning.” 

He laughs, and I feel the tension start to ease out of him. “Too much hugging and crying, ever, unless it’s you.” He sighs and pulls me tighter against him. _“You_ have to tell _my_ parents. Just to be fair.”

“I never realized you had such a thing about fairness,” I say, and he laughs again. 

“Neither did I. But oh my God. I need a nap now.”

That makes me laugh so hard I get tears in my eyes. “You just woke up, but okay.” 

We’re both joking, but I guess we fall back to sleep anyway.

ARI

The first time I woke up this morning, I laid in the sunlight streaming through Dante’s window and just looked at him. It seemed a little creepy except HE’S MY FIANCÉ NOW and I like to think that comes with permission to watch him sleep. 

Also, he’s so beautiful. Perfect. He’s got these high cheekbones that are, frankly, rare on a guy, and his lips are kind of thin and soft-looking with a really pronounced cupid’s bow, and his nose is very straight, and his chin is sharp but just a little rounded, so it’s not too sharp, and his forehead is pretty much the perfect size for the rest of his face. It’s kind of funny that he’s an artist, because he looks like art. When he’s awake, his bright, inquisitive eyes capture you and that’s almost all you can notice, but when he’s asleep you can really see how truly lovely the rest of his face is. 

I get to see him like this. Sleeping. 

I get to see him laughing (gorgeous), and crying (heart-wrenching), and turned on (breathtaking). 

I get to see all that. _Me._

I still can’t believe my luck. 

So I watched him for a while, just kind of marvelling, and then I went downstairs to get some coffee and was accosted by the affection of his parents. Which I loved, to be honest, but I just wasn’t expecting it. Not right then, wearing only my boxers and one of Dante’s ratty t-shirts turned inside out. 

They didn’t seem to mind a bit. It’s really something, how much our parents love us. I mean, all four of them really adore the both of us, and they really want us to be happy. It’s kind of crazy, how I went from feeling so alone to feeling so enveloped in love. And the craziest thing? It was there for so long. Waiting for me. All I had to do was admit that I wanted it. Just relinquish my deathgrip on being a loner. 

_Relinquish._ That’s a vocabulary word. When I learned it, it was just a rote definition to recite, but now it lives inside me. 

The second time I wake up, it’s because Dante is kissing my neck. I grin. I asked him to wake me up like this, and here he is, doing what I want. Because that’s what Dante does.

He’s always done what I want, when you think about it. I mean, when you think about it, he’s done whatever I want this entire time. For all his stubborn persuasiveness, when it comes down to it, he’s let me call the shots all along. The one exception might be our first kiss, but honestly? I wanted that, too. I just hadn’t relinquished enough to admit it yet.

And to think I once believed I belonged to the rain.


	15. Joaquin Quintana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a couple of months after the previous one. The night before Thanksgiving, to be exact. It involves one sweet baby and a lot of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just updated a few minutes ago, so if you didn't read Chapter 14, go back and read it first! It's not necessary for this one, but still :)

Late Fall, 1988

ARI

The night before Thanksgiving, it was super busy at the pizza joint. We were weeded in the kitchen, and Dante and Sara were weeded in the dining room, and to make matters both worse and better, Gina and Susie had stopped by and were lurking around, eating pizza obscenely slowly and bugging Dante whenever he passed their table. I only knew this because every so often he’d stick his head into the kitchen to give me updates.

For instance, ten minutes after reporting to me that they’d arrived and sat in his section, he came back to announce, “Apparently Gina wants the new guy’s phone number.” The new guy is Antonio, Tone for short, and he’s this tall, dark guy with a thick Mexican accent and a full mustache. He looks a lot older than he is. He goes to my school, but I never really talk to him. Not because I have anything against him, I just never talk to anyone at school except Gina and Susie. He’s pretty cool, though. The day he started was the same day I let slip (intentionally, because if he’s going to have a problem we might as well get it out of the way) that Dante and I are a thing. He seemed weirded out, but didn’t say anything offensive enough to warrant me threatening to kick his ass. After a while, he kind of surprised me by saying, “You’re alright, man.” 

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t know any queers and I figured they were all pansies, but you’re cool. You work hard. And you’re not hitting on me, which I kinda figured was something gay dudes did.” 

I looked at him. “Gay dudes only hit on hot guys,” I said, completely straight faced, and I heard Dante bust out laughing in front of house. Apparently he’d been standing near enough the saloon doors to the kitchen that he overheard us. Tone narrowed his eyes at me for just a second, then busted out laughing, too.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You’re just a normal dude.”

“Yeah, revolutionary thought. Gay guys can just be normal dudes.”

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter much either way. “I’m just saying, you’re alright.”

I grinned. His comments were utterly offensive, but I couldn’t really get too up in arms about it all. He had felt that way because that’s what most people thought. He was obviously willing to reevaluate his perspective. That’s all anyone can really ask, really. 

God, I sounded like Dante.

Anyway, after that, Tone and I were pals. He was friendly to Dante, too, so as far as I was concerned, he was cool.

“Hey Tone,” I said, when Dante stuck his head into the kitchen to tell me about Gina’s interest. “Check out the girl at table 20. The one with long dark hair. She wants your number.” 

Despite the fact that the kitchen was severely backed up, he dropped the pepperonis he’d been tossing haphazardly onto a pie and headed out to front of house under the guise of getting himself a Coke refill. I caught Dante’s eye and we both started laughing. Tone was back in ten seconds saying, “Oh hell yeah, give her my number.”

“Heard,” Dante said, and disappeared back into the dining room. 

A half hour later, I’d forgotten all about Gina and Susie being there until Dante rushed back into the kitchen and completely encroached on my personal space (which I loved) to breathe into my ear, “Now Susie wants Sara’s number.” I laughed, incredulous. 

“Did you tell her Sara’s not into girls?”

“Do we know that for sure?”

I started to retort, then laughed again, because he had a point. Dante flashed me his sparkly sunshine smile and took off again. I was glad that Susie and Gina were apparently being each other’s wingman. Or wingwoman, I guess. Wingperson. Anyway, it seemed like a positive step.

Dante came back a few minutes later with an update. “Sara said she’s never been with a girl but she thinks Susie’s cute. She actually stopped by their table and gave her her number herself. She told me she never thought she might like girls, but seeing us together has inspired her to branch out.”

I looked at Dante, eyebrows raised. I really hoped Sara wasn’t just going to experiment with Susie and then decide she was straight and cast her aside. That’s the last thing Susie needed, after what happened with Gina. From the look Dante was giving me, I knew he was thinking the same thing. I decided to talk to Susie about it later. 

Anyway, the crowd eventually died down enough that I was able to take a little break and go talk to Gina and Susie. I slid into the booth next to Susie and she squealed. 

“Ari, you’re covered in flour,” she cried. I gave her a look. 

“I’ve been tossing out pizzas for the past few hours,” I said, putting my arm around her and pulling her into a hug. She squealed again and tried to wiggle out of my grasp. 

“Oh my God you’re getting flour all over me. You’re so obnoxious,” she said, but she was laughing. So was Gina. Dante gravitated to us, clearly wanting to not miss out on the fun. 

“God, that rush was crazy. I made bank in tips, though,” he said, sliding into the booth beside Gina, pulling a piece of pizza off their tray, and taking a huge bite. He still had customers, so this was definitely against the rules, but we both knew Freddy wouldn’t care as long as the customers stayed happy. “This is cold,” he immediately complained, his mouth full.

“Well, they’ve been camping here for hours,” I pointed out, and both girls laughed. 

“We like the eye candy,” Gina said. 

“So I heard.”

Up at the counter, the phone rang. Dante glanced up to be sure Sara was going to get it, then, satisfied, went back to his cold pizza. 

“Dante!” Sara called from the counter. We all looked over at her. “Phone.”

Dante slid back out from the booth and went up front, chewing his pizza. I watched him as she handed him the phone, and distinctly heard her say, “It’s a Mr. Mendoza.” Immediately, I stood up and walked over. Why would my dad call Dante at work? Dante raised his eyebrows at me, put the phone to his ear, swallowed his bite of pizza, and said, “Hello?” Almost immediately, his face lit up, then lit up some more, then he cried, “We’re on our way!” and dropped the phone back into the cradle.

“ARI!” he practically screamed. Everyone in the place looked up at him. “The baby’s coming!”

I grabbed ahold of him. We were clutching each other’s shoulders, wide-eyed. _The baby was coming._

“Freddy!” I cried, charging into the kitchen. “The baby’s coming! Can we leave?”

He was at the sink, spraying off a pan before putting it in the industrial dishwasher. I had told him before that Dante’s baby brother would be born sometime soon, so he knew what I was talking about immediately.

“Of course,” he said, flashing me a happy grin. “We’ve got this. You guys go meet your brother.”

I beamed at him, some small part of my brain acknowledging what an uncharacteristic expression it was to have on my face, and then I darted back into the front of house. “Let’s go,” I breathed to Dante, untying my apron and depositing it unceremoniously on the counter. Sara was standing there watching it all, a huge smile on her face. Gina and Susie had come over to the counter.

“The baby!” Gina cried, and she actually had tears in her eyes. Dante and I both pulled them into hugs on our way out. 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” I heard Susie yelling after us. Dante whirled around and blew her a kiss, then whirled back around as we ran, laughing, to the truck. 

  
  
  


When we got to the hospital, we met my parents in the lobby. None of us said hi or how are you or any of that bullshit. My dad just said, “It should be any time now,” and we all stood around grinning at each other.

Less than half an hour later, Sam came into the lobby. He looked like he was glowing from the inside. “It’s a boy!” he cried. My mom repeated, “A boy!” as Dante said, “I knew it.” My dad reached out his hand to shake Sam’s, but Sam ignored it and pulled him into a hug, laughing gleefully. My dad laughed too, and hugged him back. I glanced at Dante and he glanced at me. We were both grinning. It was a little weird to see our dads hugging. Weird in a good way. 

Then Sam hugged my mom, and kissed her cheeks, and then he stepped to Dante and put his hands on his face. I suddenly realized how much they looked like each other. Both so youthful and happy and pure. My heart swelled. 

They looked at each other for a moment, then, at exactly the same moment, they wrapped their arms around each other. Sam kissed Dante’s temple with tears in his eyes. Then he looked at me and reached an arm out, and I stepped into his embrace, too, and then the three of us were hugging and it felt like everything was right in the world. It made my head spin a little, just because my life is so much more now than I ever thought it would be.  
  


Now we’re in the room with Mrs. Quintana. My parents left a little while ago, after having held the baby and hugged everyone about a hundred times. Dante’s holding the baby now, gazing down at his face with the most beautiful expression I’ve ever seen. My heart is overflowing so much I can’t get a deep breath.

He looks up at me. He holds my gaze for a moment. I hold his.

“Wanna hold him?” he asks, quietly. Instinctively I look to Mrs. Quintana. She looks exhausted and beautiful. She smiles at me and gives me a little nod. Gingerly, Dante passes the baby to me. He’s awake, and his little brown eyes are round . He’s so tiny, he barely weighs a thing. 

I study his face. “I think he might be as smart as you, Dante.”

“How can you possibly know that, Ari? He was literally just born.”

“Yeah, but look at his eyes. They’re sharp and thoughtful, like yours.”

Dante’s quiet for just a beat. Then he says, “He’s a newborn, Ari,” but his voice has a hitch in it. I look at him and smile. He looks at me and smiles back. The love between us is so tangible I feel like I could touch it. Hold it in my hands. It’s so intense. I wonder if anyone else can feel it. 

I look at the baby, and then I look up at Sam and Mrs. Quintana, and I realize... _everyone_ can feel it. Mrs. Quintana is looking at me intensely, watching me hold her baby, and I smile at her. She smiles back at me. Then the baby makes a little adorable sound and I look back at him, and I know.

“Joaquin,” I say. He’s looking in my eyes - I swear he is - and I smile at him. 

And then I realize the feeling in the room is just as intense, but different. I look up at the Quintanas, who are all looking at each other. Sam’s eyes dart over to me and he raises his eyebrows. 

“Joaquin?” he asks. I look at him, then I look at the baby, then I look at Dante, and then at Mrs. Quintana.

“Well, yeah,” I say, suddenly feeling stupid. But that feeling goes away fast because of the looks on their faces. “He looks like a Joaquin,” I say, quietly. Mrs. Quintana nods at me. Sam steps over to stand right next to me, and I’ve got Dante over one shoulder and Sam over the other and the baby in my arms. 

“Joaquin,” Sam says, almost in a whisper, and reaches out to touch his child’s face. And I realize, with a shock, that I just named the baby. 

I mean, the name had been Dante’s idea originally. So it was kind of a joint effort. 

I look up at him, at Dante, and he’s beaming at me with tears in his eyes. I love him so fucking much, I swear. I can’t even express it. And he loves me that much, too. I can feel it, coming off him in waves. 

Not even waves. A steady, thrumming power, just flowing into me. 

I sound ridiculous. But it’s just true. It’s like he’s an open tap and he just flows into me. Like water. Like lava. Like…

Shit. I’m crying. When did that start? 

“Joaquin,” Sam says again, with more force behind it. He’s staring at the baby, but he looks up and meets my eyes and we smile at each other. I can feel the tears running down my cheeks and I’m not even embarrassed. 

“Joaquin,” I confirm, nodding once. “Definitely.” One of my tears falls onto Joaquin’s face, and he squints in this really adorable way, and we all laugh.

  
  


When Dante and I step into the hallway later, after he’d held Joaquin again, and Sam had held Joaquin again, and then Mrs. Quintana had taken him back because he was hungry and needed to nurse, Dante takes my hand.

“You named my brother, Ari,” he says, and his eyes look like stars in the desert. Beautiful, and unreal, and so, so real and so, so _right there._

“It was your idea initially. Remember? You said you liked that name…”

He’s shaking his head. “I liked a lot of names. You named him.” He puts his forehead against mine. “That means you’re stuck with us, for life. You’re officially the person who named my brother. You’ve got a legacy.”

I laugh, and pull away enough to look into his eyes. We’re still holding hands, but my free hand has found its way to his hip, like it’s wont to do. 

“I hope that’s not my only legacy. I’d most like to be remembered as the person you spend your life with,” I say, without knowing I’m going to say it. My face gets hot but I hold his gaze.

“That, too,” he whispers, and kisses me.

We stop when a nurse turns the corner. I pull away and glance at her, a thin, young white woman in pink scrubs. Her blond hair is pulled into a ponytail. She meets my eye and gives me the sweetest, most genuine smile, and I love the whole world right then. 

“My brother’s name is Joaquin,” Dante announces to her, and I grin at how giddy he sounds. She nods appreciatively. 

“That’s a lovely name,” she says.

“Ari named him,” Dante says, gesturing to me. I shrug a shoulder because it’s all so intense. But her smile is still genuine and pure.

“Good choice,” she says, and winks at me, and I know she means more than the baby’s name.

“You have no idea,” I call to her as she walks away, and she looks over her shoulder to flash another smile at me. 

“It’s kinda obvious,” she calls back, then disappears into another patient’s room. I look at Dante, who is positively beaming at me.

“Ari?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to be alone with you, right now.”

God, I love it when he says that.

“Let’s go then,” I say. 

  
  


DANTE

I jump his bones the minute we get in his truck. How can I not? He’s the most beautiful guy in the universe, and he’s my boyfriend, and my fiance, and he just named my brother, and he just said he planned to spend his life with me. Which I already knew, of course. But he’s never said it like that. So bluntly. 

So I crawl into his lap and hold his face with both hands and kiss him like the world is ending. Or beginning. 

I kiss him like the world is beginning. 

He kisses me back. It’s probably a solid half hour that he kisses me back, and since I’m straddling him I can feel how turned on he is, and I know he can feel me, too, but we just keep kissing and nothing more. Just clutching each other and breathing the same air and being deliriously in love. 

When he finally tries to pull back, I chase his lips and he immediately gives in and kisses me some more. Finally he moves his mouth to my neck and murmurs against my skin, “Can I  _ please _ take you home?” 

“I _ am _ home,” I say, and I feel all of the strength go out of him at once, like I just annihilated him, and I love it.

  
  
  
  
  



	16. off to NYC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like the title says - off to NYC. The trip has begun.  
> Also some family stuff. Mom-love and baby Joaquin, in particular.

DANTE

“What about this one?” I asked Ari, turning a little on the spot so he could see my baggy sweater and faded jeans from various angles. He was lounging on my bed, one muscled arm folded behind his head, watching me. The grin on his face was wicked, and I wanted nothing more than to go climb on top of him. 

“Quit looking sexy at me. I’m trying to stay focused. Should I bring this outfit or not?” 

He laughed. “I cannot believe you of all people are stressing about what to pack. Since when do you care about clothes?” 

“Ari,” I said, “This is the trip of a lifetime. And you know we can only pack so much. I want to make sure I’ve got everything I want. I hate going somewhere and wishing I had something I didn’t bring.” 

He laughed again and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so that his feet rested on the floor. “It’s not the trip of a lifetime, Dante. I promise to take you on many more trips over the years.” That made me smile. “But if you want to keep stripping in front of me, I’m not gonna complain in the slightest.” I laughed. “And yes, you should bring that one. I love the way you look in those jeans. And the sweater is warm.” He would know, he borrowed it often. Come to think of it, it might have started out as his… 

“Great.” I pulled the sweater over my head to try on the next one, but in the split second when my vision was impeded by it he stood up and put his hands on either side of my body, in the dips just below my ribs, and the moment my face was clear of the sweater, he was kissing me. My arms were still pinned above my head as I pulled it the rest of the way off, which suddenly got a bit more tricky since I was kissing him back so thoroughly. 

“Ari, we should focus on packing,” I breathed as he moved his mouth to my neck. Even I had to admit I didn’t sound like I meant it. Which I didn’t. I wanted him to keep on with exactly what he was doing. 

“You can’t possibly expect me to watch you pull your clothes off again and again and just sit there,” he murmured against my skin, shuffling us backward until we bumped into the bed and collapsed onto it, me on top of him. His mouth didn’t unfasten from my neck, and in the part of my brain that was still thinking registered that I’d have a hickey there. It made me grin. 

“You trying to mark me as yours before the trip?” I asked, twining my fingers up into his hair. He chuckled and gave one last hard nip at the spot, making me twitch and let out a little whimper. 

“Exactly. I don’t want anybody making eyes at you in some street cafe while I’m inside getting a coffee refill.” 

That made me laugh, and he laughed, too, and rolled us over so that he was on top of me. Then he resumed kissing me, quite sloppily, and I relished the weight of his body on top of mine, and the feel of his tongue in my mouth, and yet again my heart was so filled with joy it felt like it might burst. 

I was slipping my hands inside his t-shirt, wondering if he’d be willing to break the no-sex-when-parents-are-downstairs rule, when there came a knocking at the door. “Boys?” my mom asked from the other side. I had to hand it to her, she had respected my request that she knock instead of barging in. Or maybe she just didn’t want to risk seeing something she couldn’t unsee. The thought made me laugh as Ari released my mouth reluctantly. 

“Yes, Mrs. Quintana?” he called, hoisting himself off of me and adjusting his pants. I sat up and kind of leaned over to hide my own erection as my mom opened the door. 

“You want some lunch? Your mom dropped by, Ari, and we made tamales.” 

Ari’s reply was genuinely enthusiastic. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Q. That would be incredible.” 

“Yeah, thanks, Mom. We’ll be right down,” I said. Her eyes bounced back and forth between us for a second, then she inhaled deeply and smiled, and stepped out and closed the door. I glanced at Ari and saw how mussed up his hair was, and remembered I was on the bed with no shirt on. My poor mom. 

Like he sometimes does, Ari spoke my thoughts. “Your poor mom.” Then he looked at me and we both dissolved into laughter. I think that if we thought she was actually troubled by it, we wouldn’t have found it so amusing, but all our parents had made it pretty clear they were at peace with the inevitable physical element of our relationship. Ari leaned down and swiped his thumb over the spot of my neck he’d marked and nodded appreciatively. “I gave you a good one,” he said, which caused us both to have to laugh again. 

When we got downstairs Mrs. Mendoza was sitting at the table giving Joaquin a bottle. Ari immediately sat beside her and started touching the baby’s toes. He was truly fascinated by Joaquin; every time they were in the same room, Ari could be found next to him, if not holding him outright. I think Ari held the baby more than anyone besides my mom. 

Mrs. Mendoza had been stopping by a lot since my mom and Joaquin got home from the hospital, and I knew my mom was super grateful for it. It was kind of sweet, I thought, that even though both Mrs. Mendoza and my mom had other friends, and had had them long before they met each other, they had clearly become each other’s best friend. Same with our dads. They hung out all the time. It was like our families really had become one family, and Ari and I weren’t even married yet. 

I guess that didn’t matter so much, though. I mean, in a way, we were already married, in our hearts. We were completely devoted to each other anyway, and shared everything, and told each other everything. And since we couldn’t actually get married, like legally married, there wasn’t much more to “married” than what we already had going on. Except living together. Once we got married, we’d move in together, and I couldn’t wait. 

“You know,” I mused, without really thinking about where we were or whose company we were in, “we could really get married any time. I mean, it technically won’t be legal either way, so there’s no reason to wait until we’re 18.” 

I was looking at Ari when I said it, but both our moms’ heads shot up and I suddenly realized this should probably be a private conversation. Oh well. I held Ari’s gaze and raised my eyebrows. He was just staring at me, blushing in that dusky way he does that’s so beautiful it’s breathtaking. 

“There’s no reason to…” my mom started, then she kind of furrowed her eyebrows like she’d confused herself and stopped. 

“No reason to what, Mom?” I asked. She laughed a little musical laugh and shook her head. 

“Nevermind.” I kept looking at her, so she smiled at me. “I was going to say ‘there’s no reason to rush into it,’ because you boys _are_ still young, but then I realized it was a silly thing to say. It’s not like either of you are going to change your minds. That’s abundantly clear.” 

I returned her smile wholeheartedly. “Exactly,” I said. “And once we’re married, we can live together.” 

“Ah...that. That’s the reason to wait,” she said. “You guys can’t live together until you’re out of high school.” 

“And then you’ve got college,” Ari’s mom said. 

“We can be married in college. You were,” I pointed out, and she tilted her head to the side in a little “fair enough” gesture. “And we’re going to room together in college either way,” I said. “If we’re married, we won’t be living in sin.” That made both our moms laugh heartily. I looked at Ari for confirmation. He was still staring at me. I raised my eyebrows at him again. 

“Let’s do it as soon as we graduate,” he said. I could feel how much my smile glowed, and he returned it just as vibrantly. 

“Whatever you do, don’t elope,” my mom said suddenly, and the fierceness in her tone made us both look at her. “We want to be there,” she finished, simply. Mrs. Mendoza was nodding. 

“We promise,” Ari said, meeting my eye, and I nodded. It was an unnecessary promise; there’s no way I would want such an important event to happen without our parents there, and I knew Ari felt the same. 

Joaquin had fallen asleep taking his bottle, so Mrs. Mendoza pulled it gently out of his mouth and stood to lay him in the bassinet we kept in the kitchen. Then we all sat down to tamales. 

  
  
  


My dad and Ari’s mom drove us to the airport the next day in my dad’s car. Mr. Mendoza couldn’t get away during the day since he was a mail carrier, and my mom didn’t want to take the baby into such a crowded place since he was still so young. I thought Ari was going to start crying as he kissed Joaquin goodbye. 

“We’ll be back in less than a week,” I reminded him, amused and touched. 

“I know,” he said, snuggling the baby closer in his arms. “But have you seen how fast he grows? He’ll be walking around by then,” Ari said, and everyone dissolved into laughter. Mrs. Mendoza looked completely delighted, and I thought I understood why. It was weird to remember how Ari used to be, before he let himself love me back. How he never much joked around with me, and _never_ joked around with anyone else. He was so different now, so playful and free. I’m sure, for his parents, who had watched him be sullen and closed off for his whole life, it felt like nothing short of a miracle. 

  
  


It was two weeks until Christmas, and the airport was decorated to the hilt. I had brought my camera and a couple of rolls of film, and my dad borrowed it to snap a picture of Ari and me in front of the enormous Christmas tree that stood in the center of the atrium. I was so excited I could barely contain myself. I kept hopping up and down, which was making Ari roll his eyes and laugh. I couldn’t believe that in a few short hours we’d be roaming the streets of Manhattan together. 

The plane ride was incredible. Neither of us had been on a plane before, and when it lifted off the ground and my stomach dropped, I seized Ari’s hand. He squeezed and looked over at me, grinning like a lunatic. I was, too. It was a small plane, so the window seats were just two by two. Ari and I had our own little space. He had insisted I sit by the window, but he was leaning practically on top of me for most of the flight so he could see out. The stewardess came by and looked at us with a touch of disdain, but she was polite enough. I got a Coke and some peanuts, and Ari got a can of Lipton’s and some peanuts, and we munched and pointed things out to each other out the window. 

By the time we hopped into a cab at JFK, it was around 2:30pm. We gave the driver our address, and he looked us up and down over the back of his seat and muttered, “Figures,” and started driving. I looked at Ari and he looked at me too, and we shrugged in unison. 

Our driver turned out to be the chattiest guy on the planet. He had a thick accent I couldn’t quite place, and he kept pointing everything out as we drove past. I was barely listening because I was having so much fun people-watching. Never had I seen such a diverse group of human beings in one place. Ari held tight to my hand the whole time, and every so often one of us would nudge the other and point with our head to something on our side of the car. 

The driver let us out in front of the little motel my parents had reserved for us, which was actually in a five-story tenement building wedged in between a restaurant and a shop. It had very high, narrow staircases and vibrantly green carpet. There was an older guy, probably in his 60s, who emerged from a back office when we rang the bell at the desk. 

“Aristotle Mendoza and Dante Quintana,” Ari said, and when I heard him say our full names like that, as if they were one thing, my skin broke out in chillbumps and I had trouble getting a breath for a minute. 

The guy opened a big book and found our names and wrote down the date and time next to them. Then he got two keys from the cubbyholes behind him, and dropped them both in Ari’s hand. “If you have any questions about the city, just let me know. I know everything there is to know about New York.” He looked at us, and his eyes settled on our hands, still tightly holding. We hadn’t let go for more than a few seconds since the plane had taken off. He smiled. “You boys have fun,” he said, and then he shuffled back into the office. 

The look on Ari’s face matched what I was feeling. Maybe this place was gay-friendly. I grinned at him, and he grinned at me. Of _course_ it was. Our parents had booked the trip; they would have made sure this was the case. Our parents loved us so damn much. 

Ari chuckled and shook his head in awe, and I knew he and I had been on the same thought-train. 

Our room was small: just a double bed (yep, gay-friendly), a dresser, a sink, and what amounted to a shower stall with a toilet in it. When you showered, the toilet got completely drenched. For some reason, this made us laugh hysterically. We had a single small window that looked out at the street. I looked out and saw two women walking by, laughing about something. One of them touched the other one on the back in this way that seemed very intimate. I smiled. 

I sat down on the bed. _Our_ bed. Our bed in New York City, on the fifth floor of an old, beautiful building, and the city was right outside. It felt like the whole world was right outside. I thought about something I’d asked him once: When would we start feeling like the world belongs to us? 

And he was there, right there, the love of my life, the most amazing guy in the universe, smiling at me in a way that made my stomach drop much more intensely than it had when we’d left the ground. “It feels like the world finally belongs to us,” I whispered. He closed the distance between us, pulled me to him. 

“It does,” he whispered back, and then he kissed me. 

  
  


We didn’t make it outside until after seven that night; our appetite for each other had been too insatiable. It was only when we had each exhausted the other that we decided to get dressed again and head out into the city. 

The sun was setting, and there were people everywhere. The first place we stopped in was the shop adjacent to our motel. I don’t know how we didn’t notice before, but there was a little rainbow flag pasted in the window. Once we went in, it was like we were in a rainbow wonderland. There were t-shirts and books and artwork and flags. Flags. There were rainbow flags for sale. 

I side-eyed Ari, and he was side-eyeing me. 

What was this place? 

As we walked down the street in the dusky evening, we kept nudging each other. It seemed almost every building we passed had a little rainbow flag in the window. We passed by two men who were just sauntering down the street holding hands, and suddenly I stopped and looked around. “Ari,” I said, and he nodded. We stared at each other for a moment, and then, as if we’d planned it, we kissed. It was just the most natural thing to do right then. We were in a space -- a real, solid, decades-old space -- that embraced us. I don’t know how else to describe it. We -- meaning us, our relationship, our love -- was not only tolerated here, it was _welcomed._ I hadn’t realized spaces like that even existed. 

“I love you,” I murmured when we pulled apart. He pressed his forehead to mine, weaving all our fingers together. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered, and we just stayed like that for a minute, in our own little world with the sounds of the city all around us. Then we pulled apart, and put our arms around each other, and walked on. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few years ago I went to NYC for the first time since I was a kid. I didn't do much research, I just found an affordable motel and booked it, only knowing it was in walking distance from both Times Square and Chinatown. When I arrived, I was in awe. Just like in this story, the shop next door was a pride shop, and as I walked down the street, I saw rainbows everywhere. Turns out Chelsea, where I happened to book my room, is the hub of NYC Gay TM. Research after-the-fact confirms this. All I can figure is that the universe aligned...or else my gaydar is intuitive 😜
> 
> At any rate, I feel like it would be an incredible experience for these boys to stumble into a "gay haven." How safe it would feel. Keep in mind this takes place in the 80s, in the midst of the AIDS-is-God's-punishment epidemic, in the midst of some of the most targeted homophobia against gay men that this country has known (in a long history of homophobia). And here our boys find themselves in a place where gay is the norm. It made my heart sing a few years ago, when I found myself there, and it makes my heart sing to think of Ari and Dante finding themselves there back in 1988.


	17. weird in a good way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NYC babeeeey! Dancing, bagels, and ice skating. (I freaking love NYC and this is all based on experiences I've had.)

DANTE

Nothing thrilled me more than to hear the words, “Wanna go dancing?” come out of Ari Mendoza’s mouth. 

We had wandered around Chelsea for a while, until we agreed we were hungry and got sandwiches made of something called felafel from a street vendor. Neither of us had ever heard of it, but it was delicious. We found a bench to sit on and ate our sandwiches, which were wrapped up in pita bread, and made up stories about the people who walked by. We kept laughing hysterically - at one point Ari nearly fell off the bench, he was laughing so hard - but no one gave us a second glance. It was kind of glorious. We were in this huge city with buildings towering over us, surrounded by a never ending flow of people, and yet we were totally alone together. It was honestly one of the most intimate experiences we’d had together. 

We had planned to go into Times Square that first night but once we discovered we were staying in such a gay area of the city (as weird as that sounds), we decided to just hang out there for the night. We still had three more nights to explore more of the city. 

After we ate our felafel and laughed ourselves silly, we wandered around again. We held hands the whole time. We held hands around town at home, too, but it always felt a little scary to do it. We both had the assault in the back of our minds, and I knew he worried about me when we weren’t together. He believes he could kick anyone’s ass (I believe that, too), but we both know I’m not a fighter and don’t want to be. Also, even though I’m a couple inches taller than he is, I’m not anywhere as close to as physically strong. So he worries, and sometimes I still get waves of anxiety myself, especially if I have to walk alone at night. Of course, the assault happened in broad daylight, so that doesn’t really make sense. But I guess “making sense” has nothing to do with anxiety. 

Anyway, walking around Chelsea holding hands with him, our bodies as close together as bodies can be while in motion, I didn’t feel a lick of fear. Quite the opposite: I felt safe, and embraced - not just tolerated, but  _ embraced _ \- and proud. A couple of times I just stopped walking and pulled him to me to kiss him, because I kind of wanted to show off that we were together. I mean, he is devastatingly good looking, and it may be shallow, but showing off one’s devastatingly good looking boyfriend in public is a special kind of fun. I knew that people would be jealous - that  _ guys _ would be jealous - and I liked it. 

“There are no stars here,” Ari said, after night had fully and completely fallen. We weren’t holding hands anymore because it had gotten so cold. We were walking pressed up against each other, our arms wrapped around each other’s bodies under the coats we had bought just for the trip. We had had to order them special from a catalog because no store in El Paso sold such heavy coats, and at the time, it had felt super extra, but now I was extremely grateful. The way the wind tunneled between the buildings was biting. I was so cold, even in my down coat and with Ari pressed against me. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel without those things. 

I looked up at the sky. He was right. The city emitted so much light, there were no stars visible. Not even Polaris.

“Big difference from the desert, huh?” I asked. I watched his face as he gazed upwards. His mouth crooked up in an adorable half-smile.

“Yeah. Big difference.”

I watched him for a moment. “You prefer the desert.” It wasn’t a question. He looked over at me and smiled ruefully.

“I do. But I’m glad we’re here. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now than here, with you.”

I pulled him tighter against me and kissed his temple and I could  _ feel  _ his smile. 

He asked me to go dancing much later, because we had passed by this stairwell that went down into some kind of basement space and there were people lined up outside to get in, and a bouncer at the door, and dance music seeping out into the night. And I was so intrigued and had half a moment of wishing Ari was someone who wanted to explore a place like that, which was accompanied with half a moment of guilt for wishing he was anything other than what he was, and then he stopped walking and gave me a little squeeze and, with his dark eyes dancing, said, “Wanna go dancing?”

  
  
  


ARI

This dance club is fucking insane. 

There are guys dancing on platforms wearing nothing more than a thong. And wings. Some of them are wearing wings. One guy has a halo on. Several of them are wearing Santa hats. One has multicolored Christmas lights draped all over his body. Glitter-confetti is literally falling from the ceiling, dusting us with glints of light.

I was surprised we got in, because the sign on the door said 18+, but the bouncer barely looked at us. He just waved us in impatiently. 

Come to think of it, maybe he was so impatient because he didn’t want to have to ask us for ID. Like, as long as we didn’t call attention to ourselves, he didn’t care. That would fit with everything else we’ve experienced here tonight. So far, New York City has lived up to all the hype twice over. When you think about it that way, it would have been weirder if we’d been told to take a hike. 

Anyway, we’re in, and this song I love,  _ Take On Me _ , is playing, and Dante is looking like Christmas came early. (I guess it kinda did...I mean, this place is decked out for Christmas in a seedy kind of way. There’s mistletoe hanging in every doorway, anyway, and Christmas lights trailing from every possible railing, and a gaudy 50s-style white metal tree in the corner.) 

The main thing I’m noticing right now (other than Dante in all his sunshiney beauty) is that it’s mostly guys. In fact, it might be  _ entirely _ guys. I don’t see a single woman in the place. And 99% of those guys are dancing, some of them quite like they got training from the choreographer of  _ Dirty Dancing _ . I watch Dante watching them, and watching the guys on the platforms, watching everything in that way he does, so intrigued and delighted, and I feel this feeling in the pit of my stomach and all I want to do is touch him, and make him happy, and spend the rest of my life with him. 

I mean, seriously. I don’t think I can explain how different my future is now. Most of my life I was surviving. Now, I’m  _ living.  _ And desperately in love.

I take his hand and it’s so _ warm _ , and he looks over at me and grins this wicked grin and I take the cue and pull him into the throng of sweaty, grinding guys, and I pull him against me so that our bodies are one thing, and we move. We dance. I can feel every part of him, his thigh between mine, his hips when they bump against my own, his waist moving beneath my palm. I let my other hand hang down, just enjoying our body contact without even thinking about what my hands are doing (I feel so free) and he has both arms draped on my shoulders, and we’re just moving. Dancing. Except it feels kind of like sex, in a weird way. The beat of the music thumps in my chest, taking my breath away. I look into his perfect face, into his beautiful brown eyes, and I let my desire for him lead my movement so that my hips are in charge. And so are his. We’re meshed together like there’s no other reality. Just him and me. A guy comes over - a hot guy, I admit, shirtless and sweaty, with dark skin and sharp features, and he tries to cut in and take Dante from me. Or maybe he’s trying to take me from Dante, I don’t really know because it never gets to that point. “Not a chance,” I mutter at him, shooting him daggers, and he puts up his hands in immediate surrender and respect and backs away, grinning, because he’s happy to see us so happy together. At least I think that’s what he feels. I have no idea, really. I’m glad he’s grinning and not trying to fight, because I don’t want to fight right now (no one’s fighting here; this isn’t a fighting place), but in the end I don’t care, because all that matters in the world right now is Dante.

So in an instant we’ve forgotten about him, Dante and I, and we dance. At one point he leans back, and my arm snakes around his lower back, and he’s bent so far that if I wasn’t holding him up he’d fall, and it’s so gut-wrenchingly delightful and beautiful and sexy I have to pull him back up to me and then we’re kissing, in the midst of all these guys, in the midst of all this chaos, this deafening music, his tongue in my mouth and the bottom halves of our bodies in perfect synchronicity, and I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. 

The beat is thumping in my veins.

_ Dante  _ is in my veins, coursing through my body, keeping me alive. His very essence lives inside of me. He’s everything. He’s more myself than I am. 

I am so madly, passionately in love with this person who is half my soul, I can hardly breathe. It’s overwhelming in a way I can’t express. 

I never knew I could feel so happy. So free. So fucking  _ wild. _

So safe. 

I will never, ever forget this. 

And I will never, ever be alone again. Neither will he. 

  
We were never alone, really. It felt that way, because we hadn’t met yet, and we were crucial to each other’s sense of wholeness. But we were never alone. I know that now. All that time, all my life, all those years of loneliness...I was just waiting.  _ We  _ were just waiting. Wading through the world alone because neither of us was willing to give our hearts to someone who wasn’t the other. And we didn’t even know that’s what we were doing, or why.

We know now.

  
  
  


DANTE

When I wake up, the sheets tangled around me and the sun in my face, Ari is seated on the end of the bed eating a bagel. I sit up, rubbing my eyes, confused. 

“Where did you get a bagel?” I ask him. 

He raises an eyebrow at me. “From the bagel place?” he asks back, as if it had been a trick question. 

“How long have you been awake?” I ask, feeling slightly betrayed that he ventured out without me and also grateful that he let me sleep in. It still feels ungodly early, especially considering how late we finally got to the motel last night after all that dancing. And then how late we kept each other up once we made it to our bed. 

He laughs. “About an hour. My body clock is set to Legs, you know.” He grins and holds out a paper bag. As if he’s read my mind, he says, “I wouldn’t go exploring without you, love. There’s a bagel place right across the street. I saw it out the window when I got up.” 

The bag is warm. I peer in and see a fat toasted bagel with cream cheese squishing out the sides. I shake my head and laugh.

“You are truly living up to your three-part plan,” I say, and he laughs and squeezes my foot that’s sticking out from under the sheet.

“I haven’t even gotten properly started yet, Dante.” We smiled at each other for a minute. Then he asks, “What do you want to do today? Museums?”

I think a second as I bite into my bagel, which is absolutely delicious (I hadn’t realized I was starving), and say, “Nah. Let’s do museums tomorrow. Let’s just wander today.” 

  
  


So we spend the day wandering around the city. We walk for miles and miles and miles, through Times Square, through Central Park, and then all the way over to the Lower East Side, and then all the way to Brooklyn, over the bridge and back. We eat lunch in a fancy restaurant that we almost didn’t even notice because the door to it is in a dirty alley full of puddles, but inside it’s posh as all get-out. As in, the waiters are wearing tuxedos. “Man, this place looks like a dump from the outside. New York is truly full of surprises,” I say, and then we laugh until we both have tears in our eyes. Our waiter is standing right next to us the entire time, a white cloth draped over his arm, just smiling down calmly at us and waiting for our laughter to recede enough that we can tell him what we want to drink. 

I look at the leather-bound menu.  _ “Ari,” _ I hiss. “We can’t afford this place.” 

Ari catches my eye over the top of his own menu and very intentionally rolls his eyes, then he grins. 

“You’re insane,” I say. “You really don’t have to buy me a fancy meal, Ari. I’m gonna put out either way.”

And then we’re laughing hysterically again, just in time for the waiter to return with our drinks (a Coke for me, a tea for him, big surprise). The waiter smiles at us with that same patience-of-Job smile and waits for us to calm down. 

“I’m truly sorry,” I say to him. He huffs a tiny chuckle. 

“Not at all, sir,” he says. “It’s refreshing to see two people so happy.”

  
  


We’re so worn out from all the walking that, around dinnertime, we go back to our room to take a nap. I can’t really explain how amazing it is to be holding my love in this little bed with the sounds of the city right outside, knowing we’re having this big adventure together. Knowing that, even though we’re both still seventeen, we’re living like adults right now. It’s like a preview to the rest of our lives. I don’t know, it’s hard to describe, but it’s glorious. Our future feels infinite. 

  
  


ARI

When we wake up it’s dark outside. “Do you want to go back out?” I ask Dante, and he nods sleepily at me. I smile, because I have an idea.

My dad had told me we had to make sure to go skating at Rockefeller Center. He had told me about it when we were having coffee together a few mornings ago. “It’s so romantic, Ari,” he’d said, and his eyes had these stars in them. 

“Have you been, Dad?” I asked. He smiled at me.

“Yes, once. I took your mother, back before I went to Vietnam. Your siblings stayed with your Aunt Ophelia for a few days.” He looked at me for a minute, as if deciding something. Then he said, “Honestly, Ari, that’s what made me think to get you this trip for your birthday. I was the one who proposed the idea. I always felt like those days with your mother in New York at Christmastime were some of the best days of my life. It was magical, to be there with the woman I loved.” He shrugged one shoulder, almost like he was embarrassed. I’d never seen my dad seem almost-embarrassed before, and it intrigued me and made my heart feel full. I was still getting used to him talking at all. “I always had this thought in the back of my mind,” he went on, “that when you fell in love, I’d buy you a trip like that to take your significant other on.” 

I was floored. I couldn’t speak for a second. “You probably thought it would be a woman,” I finally said, laughing a little. And then I immediately hoped that he didn’t feel like I was being rude. I was so touched by what he’d said and what it meant -- that he loved me, that he’d thought of me even when I thought he wasn’t, that he knew that Dante was the love of my life, that he was telling me anything at all. So I was relieved when he laughed, too.

“I did,” he admitted. “I assumed it would be a woman. Thank God I was wrong, huh?” 

I loved him so much right then. 

So, so much. 

  
  
  


So I take Dante skating at Rockefeller Center. The tree is everything it’s cracked up to be: huge, and colorful, and magical. “I’ve never ice skated before, Ari,” Dante says, and I have one of those moments when his voice just sweeps through me and I love it so much I think my heart will burst. It really is my favorite sound. 

“I love your voice, Dante,” I say, and he looks up from tying his skate to beam at me. I don’t think he really understands why I love his voice so much, and I’m not sure I understand, either. If you could hear it, you’d know, though. It’s like it's maculine and feminine and musical all at once, and you can literally  _ hear _ how intelligent and pure and full of wonder he is, just from the sound of it. 

“It can’t be all that different from roller skating,” I say a moment later, and I feel myself blush because I sound a little breathless. 

I wonder if it will always be like this. If he’ll always take my breath away when I’m not expecting it.

“Fair enough,” he says. He stands up, wobbling a little, but, as always, brave and unwilling to consider defeat as an option. He reaches for my hand and I take it. This isn’t Chelsea, but I don’t care. It’s New York City at Christmastime, and we are under a huge glowing tree with a swarm of people and I don’t think anyone gives even the slightest fuck about two boys holding hands on the ice rink. And he’s Dante fucking Quintana. How could I not hold his hand? 

Turns out, Dante and I are good at ice skating. Makes sense, I guess, since I’ve got that good-with-my-body thing and he’s got that good-at-everything thing. We skate until it closes, and we’re the last two people to leave the ice and we only leave when one of the security guards starts strapping on skates like he’s going to come get us. Dante’s cheeks and the tip of his nose are bright pink from the cold, and I’ve never loved him more. My dad was right, about this place being romantic. 

We walk slowly now, arms tight around each other, and we stop off for a hot cocoa in this diner that reminds me of…

_ “Nighthawks.” _

Dante’s face lights up. “I was just thinking that, Ari! This is so much like  _ Nighthawks, _ except not lonely.”

I laugh.  _ “Nighthawks _ isn’t lonely, Dante,” I say. 

He nudges my foot with his under the table. “You’re weird,” he says. We hold each other’s gaze, eyes dancing. “In a good way,” he whispers.

“Good,” I murmur, and I reach out and thread my fingers through his so that we’re holding hands on the table. “I’ve always wanted to be weird in a good way.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Take On Me](https://youtu.be/NaQ083rNUwc)
> 
> The dance club is modeled after Babylon from the US version of Queer as Folk, which is my all-time favorite show and the first fandom I was ever in. QAF took place in the early 2000s, so it may not be exactly accurate to the late 80s. But I think it’s probably not so different, either. [Here's a clip to give you a visual](https://youtu.be/mBlk17hajtg) (with a remixed version of my all-time favorite song, which also happens to be from the 80s).
> 
> (By the way, if you’ve never watched Queer as Folk, find a way to do it and just do it. You won’t regret it. It was ground-breaking at the time, being the first show that featured queer people in a gritty, realistic way. It focuses on a little group of gay/bi folks who hang together and the straight people in the show are the “token” characters (although nobody’s token, everybody matters). It’s got its flaws, but it’s a crucial piece of queer history. Also the story of Brian and Justin will bring you to your knees. (They have BIG Snowbaz energy...Same archetypes.) (More about QAF below.) (ALSO. All that said, while it’s a complex and dramatic show, it’s extremely explicit. They had to take special care to edit scenes because they were always on the verge of getting an “X” rating, so if sex is not your thing, I take back what I said about watching it.)
> 
> Next story: when I was a kid I took dance lessons, like so many others. The dance studio I took lessons at had one of the choreographers from the hit movie Dirty Dancing join the staff, and he actually gave “dirty dancing” lessons to young girls. A little creepy, now that I’m articulating it, though to be fair I think it was all on the up-and-up. (This was before society acknowledged such wild ideas as, say, not sexualizing children, so as creepy as it sounds, it was just kind of The Way Things Were.) Anyway, [here’s the “watermelon scene”](https://youtu.be/ijK0WTB_-RY) from Dirty Dancing to give you some context if you haven’t seen it. 
> 
> Credit where credit is due (I love pulling from my favorites, obvs): “He is more myself than I am.” - Emily Bronte, _Wuthering Heights._
> 
> “He’s Dante fucking Quintana” -- direct reference to “Brian fucking Kinney” from Queer as Folk. Did I mention this was the first piece of media I was ever in a fandom for? [Here's another sweet clip from it](https://youtu.be/J013iLyNRrk) just for funsies.  
> [Also here’s one of my favorite fanvids (because obsessions never die).](https://youtu.be/t5gr700cJSU)
> 
> Oh and for good measure,[ here is a photo of the ice rink at Rockefeller center](https://therinkatrockcenter.com).


	18. Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve at the Mendozas is nothing like it's ever been before. Also, at long last, we hear from Bernardo. 
> 
> From Cecilia's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a version of this almost a year ago. I rewrote it a bit to fit into this storyline. I was afraid I wouldn't get it done in time, but here it is! Happy holidays to everyone if you celebrate them, and if not, happy another-day-on-earth.
> 
> (Also, happy Snowbaz day ;))
> 
> Update: There is a smutfic that goes along with this chapter, which can be found here: [A Very Merry Christmas.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512980)

CECILIA

It’s been so long since I’ve seen my family. Well, not Sylvia - we get together every couple of weeks for house-cleaning day. We rotate between her house and my house, and we just spend the day sipping on wine, catching up, and doing a thorough cleaning while the kids play together. We have this arrangement where I do the “dry chores,” like sweeping and dusting and vacuuming, and she does the “wet chores” like mopping and scrubbing. She doesn’t mind the wet chores, and I don’t mind the dry chores, and it works out perfectly. One of the perks of being twins, I guess. In many ways, we’re either just alike, or else we’re polar opposites. 

But I haven’t seen the rest of the family for months. We were supposed to come for Thanksgiving, but then Mrs. Quintana had the baby, so Sylvia and Juan and the kids just came over and we had a smaller Thanksgiving at our place. 

I’m not even going to pretend that I’m not dying to meet this family that has completely upended my family’s life and transformed my little brother and my parents. Sylvia told me all about Ari’s birthday dinner, and how he and Dante are so grown up and comfortable with each other, and how my dad actually talks and laughs now, and how _ Ari  _ actually talks and laughs now. I couldn’t quite picture it. Our family has been always been so...closed. So private. Just a bunch of private people, living private lives, at least since my dad got home from his time in Vietnam. Sylvia and I were the exceptions, but only when it came to each other, and I guess that doesn’t really count since we’re twins. I mean,  _ of course _ we’re close. 

It was kind of funny when my mom told me Ari and Dante had gotten engaged, because she started out saying, “Do you remember me mentioning Dante?” 

I was like, “You mean the guy Ari almost died for? Yeah, Mom, you’ve mentioned him. You talk about him as much as you talk about Ari, or Dad.” 

My mother said, “Yes, well. I’m sure Syliva told you that he and Ari took their relationship to the next level.”

“She did. I think that’s great. Can’t wait to meet him.” 

“Oh yes, you’ll adore him. And they’re not just dating now. They’re engaged.”

That was a little surprising. “How’s that going to work?” I asked, genuinely curious. “They can’t actually get married, can they? And they’re so young.”

“They can get married. It may not be acknowledged by the government, but marriage is about commitment, not a piece of paper. And I know they’re young. But when you see them together, Cece...well, your dad and I were young, too, and I’ve never regretted a day of it. And they’re just so good for each other.”

This was over a month ago, obviously, and she’d also told me all about the baby that was coming, and it was crystal clear from how she talked about the Quintana family that they had somehow integrated right into our family. Almost like our family had simply expanded.

So when I’d called her to talk about Christmas a couple of weeks ago, it wasn’t a total shocker that she talked about the Quintanas’ home like it was an extension of our own. 

“You and Leo can stay at the Quintanas’,” she’d said. “So can Sylvia and Juan. It just makes the most sense. We only have the one guest room, as you know, and they only have one guest room, so the boys will stay together here in Ari’s room and all the little ones can stay here - well, not Joaquin, obviously, but all the grands. They can stay with us in the guest room. We’ll put down a bunch of sleeping bags. They’ll have a blast.”

“Really?” I’d asked. This sounded a little too good to be true. I love my kids more than life itself, but having them stay with Abuela and Abuelo while Leo and I were in a totally different space seemed like a mini-vacay. “Are you sure the Quintanas are okay with this?”

“Of course, honey. Why wouldn’t they be?”

“You talk about them like they’re family.”

“They are.” 

So that was that. 

  
  


The first time we encounter Ari, I see immediately what Sylvia was talking about. He had always been so dark in this way. So sheltered in himself. When we get to the house and come in, he bounds down the stairs and doles out hugs like it’s not the first time he’s ever done so, and I have to consciously keep myself from staring, because he has somehow gone from exuding darkness to exuding light. He looks like a different person, just from the look on his face and the smile in his eyes. And the hugs. So many hugs, for all of us. Like he hadn’t been a kid who shunned physical affection all his life. 

Who _ is  _ this Dante, I think, to have changed him so completely? Was it just Dante that had changed him? Had almost dying had something to do with it? My mind is full of questions as I smile back at him, speechless. 

Leo and I offer to help with dinner, but my parents insist that we take it easy, so Leo and I pour ourselves some eggnog and settle into the family room with the kids, who are coloring in coloring books on the floor. A little while later the front door opens, and I assume it’s my sister Sylvia. I mean, who else would just walk into the house without knocking? 

Leo and I have a clear view of the foyer from where we’re sitting on the couch, so we see that it’s not Sylvia. It’s a teenage boy I can only assume is Dante, except it’s a little hard to believe. For one thing, he walks into the house like he owns it, which I guess shouldn’t actually be surprising considering my mom’s whole “they’re family” comment. But he’s disarmingly confident, and also he’s just...old. He looks like a young adult, and while I can objectively see that Ari is also a young adult, I still see him as a kid. I can’t not. I mean, he’s my brother. When I look at him I don’t really  _ see _ him. I see his essence. And while, yes, his essence has changed, I still hadn’t really appreciated him as a “young adult.”

But this guy definitely is. He’s fairly tall, and he’s got dark brown hair that was clearly cut short at some point, but has grown enough that it looks tousled, like he can’t be bothered with a comb. His faded jeans are so worn they have frayed cuffs and a couple of holes in them, and his sweater looks like it might have once almost fit, but it’s been stretched out and now just hangs on him like a rag. He toes off his beat-up sneakers in the foyer, revealing mismatched socks. His facial features stand in contrast to all this chaos; they’re sharp and defined and truly lovely, almost catlike. He’s quite striking, to be honest. 

If this is Ari’s fiance, well. Good job, Ari.

He proceeds to the living room, which is just past the stairway and therefore still in view, and proceeds to start unpacking the paper grocery bags full of gifts he’d carted in with him. As he goes, he rearranges the gifts that were already there, and I’m again struck by how he didn’t announce his presence or greet anyone, and how he’s now taken complete control of the Christmas tree space. For one absurd moment I wonder if this kid actually lives here, and my parents just forgot to tell me. 

As if he can feel our gaze, he looks up at Leo and me. His face immediately lights up into a brilliant smile full of bright white teeth, and a moment later he’s standing in front of us, hand extended. 

“I’m Dante,” he says. “I’m Ari’s prometido. You must be Cecilia and Leo.” 

The use of the Spanish word for “fiance” catches me off guard. I’d forgotten that Dante was Mexican, too; he doesn’t look it. I glance at Leo, who is glancing at me, and then I stand and take Dante’s hand. “I am. Nice to meet you, Dante.” 

His handshake is like everything else about him. Strong and solid and warm. He reaches for Leo’s hand next. Isabella and Rafael have clambered up from the floor and shimmied over to us, and now they’re looking up at Dante expectantly. Not surprising. We’ve raised them to own their space in the world. 

Without hesitation, Dante crouches so he’s at their level. “And you must be Isabella and Rafael,” he says, pronouncing their names perfectly. He is extending his hand to them just as he did to us. “I’m your Uncle Dante.” 

I have to admit, I’m impressed. 

I’m even more impressed when Bella shoves him and yells, “You’re it!” and takes off running. Isabella is my shy one. She doesn’t typically initiate play, and only rarely does she engage with strangers. But here she is, dashing out of the family room, and as if he’d expected it, Dante is close on her heels. They round the corner and disappear from view, but I can hear her shrieking in delight. Instinctively, Leo and I step out to where the family room opens out into the hallway, Rafael hovering close. We can see into the living room, and also down the hall into the kitchen where my mom and dad and brother are cooking. As we stand watching, Bella appears around the corner, darting expertly between her grandparents and her uncle. Ari has just taken a pan of cookies out of the oven with a potholder-clad hand, and he lifts them far above her head as she whizzes by him. 

Then Dante appears. He also blazes between my parents, but I see him slow a bit because of Ari. “Hey,’ I hear him say, and he plants a kiss on Ari’s mouth as he's dashing by. He’s quickly brought up short, however, because my brother snakes his free arm around Dante’s waist and stops him mid-run. 

“Hey yourself,” I hear my brother say in a husky voice I’d never even imagined could come out of him. Then he pulls Dante against him, and Dante immediately responds by pulling on him, too, and then they are kissing so thoroughly I feel myself blush. Bella has stopped right here in front of us and is staring down the hall just like Leo, Rafe and me. Just staring at her uncle Ari and her uncle Dante making out in the kitchen while my dad bends over the oven, checking the temperature of the meat, and my mom scoots around the hot pan of cookies that is still in Ari’s hand. Neither of my parents seem to even notice that my brother is sucking face with a dude right in front of them until my mother scoots around the cookies for a second time just as Ari shifts. I wince, because she almost gets burned by the hot pan. 

“Boys! There’s too much going on in here,” she chastises, and immediately Ari and Dante break apart, laughing. 

Then they let go of each other and a second later, Dante is back in the game, charging for Bella. She squeals in delight and takes off again, this time stopping just around the corner, on the other side of the stairs, and peers through the banisters. She hovers there as Dante skids to a stop in front of us, hovering as well. They look like two feral cats with only a staircase between them, dancing back and forth on their feet, sizing each other up. 

“Why were you kissing my Ari?” Rafael asks in a quiet voice.

Dante answers matter-of-factly without looking away from Bella, still involved in the game. “Because I’m in love with him.” My heart absolutely melts. I mean, really? This awesome, adorable young man,  _ in love _ with my sulky little brother? And yet I believe it. Anyone who witnessed the way they just kissed each other would believe it. 

Then Dante does look away from Bella, turning suddenly to Rafe, a quizzical look on his face. “Wait...are you playing?” he asks, and then he makes his hands into claws and hisses at my son. Rafael screams in delight, and I realize he wanted to be included. How did Dante get that when I didn’t? A moment later Rafael has taken off towards the kitchen, and Dante is fast on his heels. Bella doesn’t want to be left out, so she circles back in front of us and races after Dante. 

“Dante!” my dad bellows as the three of them dart through the kitchen, and for the millionth time since Dante showed up, I do a double take. My dad is not the bellowing type. “Take it outside!” he yells.

“You heard your abuelo,” Dante hollers back to the kids, taking a detour through the back door. “C’mon!”

And then my kids are through the door, following their new uncle into the backyard, and I can feel Leo’s eyes on me. I look back at him, as amazed as he is.

Who is this guy?

“Okay, this sounds awful, so please forgive me. But you were always such a sullen little loner, Ari.” I say over dinner. Sylvia catches my eye, and she’s smirking. I ignore her and continue on. “How did you manage to land Mister Sunshine here?” 

This makes the entire family - meaning my parents, Dante’s parents (who arrived a little while ago and greeted all of us with kisses like they’d always known us), my sister and her husband (who had also arrived a little while ago), and the boys themselves - erupt into laughter. I feel slightly irritated, because I don’t get what’s so funny, but it’s hard to get too annoyed because the sight of my family belly-laughing is too good to be true. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. 

“Well, ya know. I played hard-to-get for a while, but he eventually won me over,” Dante says, which provokes more hysterics. Then Dante speaks again. “Seriously, though. I pined after him for over a year, and the whole time he was like, what a cool bromance we have.”

“I never used the term ‘bromance,’” Ari argues, the disgusted look on his face betrayed by how his eyes are dancing with amusement, and I can’t believe how playful my brother is now. It makes me wonder if he’d been playful before, and none of us caught on, or whether Dante inspired something new in him.

“Well, you may as well have,” Dante retorts, and Ari smirks at him. “At any rate, Cecilia, yeah. It took him a minute. Worth the wait, though,” he finishes up, leaning his head onto Ari’s shoulder. Ari leans over and kisses his forehead. I can’t do anything but stare. 

After dinner, everyone crowds into the family room. My dad lights a fire in the fireplace, and Mrs. Quintana sits down at the neglected piano and plays some Christmas carols until Joaquin wakes up from his nap (my parents actually have a bassinet in the family room, just for when the Quintanas are over), and then she picks him up and feeds him in the rocking chair (which is also new, and seems to be just for this purpose). I snuggle up against Leo on the sofa, feeling young again, and try not to stare too hard at Ari and Dante, who are so entangled in an armchair that it’s hard to tell whose jean-clad legs are whose, or my parents, who are standing close together with their arms around each other like they’re teenagers in love. Sam and Juan are on the floor with all the kids, playing a board game with them in front of the fire. Sylvia is on the sofa on my other side, leaned up against me with her head on my shoulder. 

This is the warmest, sweetest Christmas Eve this family has ever had. It makes me think about Bernardo. I want to say something, but I know the topic is off-limits. Except maybe it’s not anymore. There are photos of him on the wall, now. There hasn’t been for years and years. 

“Mom?” I ask, tentatively. She looks over at me. “Have you...heard from Bernardo? It’s just, I noticed his pictures are up.”

She smiles sadly and shakes her head, but then Ari says, “I have.”

Everyone turns to stare at him except Dante, who is smiling widely, clearly aware already.

“You have?” my dad asks. Ari suddenly looks flustered.

“Yeah,” he says. “I wrote to him.” He shrugs. “He wrote back.” He smiles at his parents. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I happened to get the mail the day his letter arrived, and then once I read it, well.” I see Dante put his hand on Ari’s thigh and give it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s wrapped. Under the tree. For you guys to find tomorrow. But I guess I just spoiled the surprise.” He doesn’t look the least bit sorry about it, and neither do my parents. Their faces are both lit up brighter than the Christmas tree in the next room. 

“What...what did he say, Ari?” my mom asks, quietly.

“Go get it. It’s the present in the big box.”

My mother hurries into the living room and returns a moment later with a box big enough to hold a record player. “This one?” 

Ari nods. “I put it in a big box so you wouldn’t guess what it was. It was Dante’s idea.” Dante nods proudly.

My parents sit down on the sofa next to Sylvia and together, they unwrap the present. Once they get the letter out, they read it in silence. My mom starts crying, and then my dad does, too, which is quite jarring--I’ve never seen him cry. Everyone’s looking at them. 

“What does it say, Mom?” Sylvia asks. My mom just shakes her head, unable to speak, so my dad reads it out in a shaky voice. 

“Dear Ari. First of all, I’m really glad you wrote. You were always my favorite.” This gets an emotional laugh from all of us. “I can’t believe you’re so old. You’re a man, now, and all I can picture is you as a boy. I wish I knew what you looked like. I can’t say I’m not a little weirded out about you being engaged to a guy, but at the same time, it’s cool. I’ve met a lot of different kinds of people in here, and one thing I’ve learned is that the ones who have your back aren’t always the ones you think. There’s a guy in here that I’ve gotten to be pretty tight with, and he’s gay. When I first met him, I hated him just because of that. But he’s been kinder to me than anyone else, and he actually listens, and thinks about things, and he’s really funny, and after a while I realized I didn’t care that he’s gay because he’s just a good dude. He’s my bro now. That’s made me reflect a lot on what I did. I don’t know how much you know about that, and I don’t really want to talk about it. It makes me feel kind of sick, to be honest. I was a different person then. Really lost. It sounds like you were lost for a while, too, and I’m really glad you aren’t anymore. 

It’s not so bad in here. Not anymore. It was at first. Thanks for telling me about Mom and Dad. I feel too awful about all that to think about it, which is why I haven’t written to them. Maybe I will someday, now that I know they’d still want that. I figured after what an ass I was, they wouldn’t want to hear from me. I was just ashamed, and scared, and angry. I don’t even know why I was angry. Anyway I don’t want to talk about it. But if you get a chance to tell them I love them more than anything, do it. Same goes for Syl and Cece.

Merry Christmas and happy engagement and all that. You should write again if you feel like it. Getting a letter from you was the best thing to happen to me in a really long time, and I wouldn’t mind another. Maybe send a photo of yourself, and your boy, too. I’m curious to see what you look like now, and I want to see this guy who captured your heart. Bernardo.”

We all sit in silence for a while. I have tears coursing silently down my cheeks, and so does Sylvia, and my mom is holding on to my dad, sobbing. “Thank you, son,” my dad says quietly, and Ari smiles at him and nods. 

Mrs. Quintana eventually hands baby Joaquin to Ari, and he takes him like it’s second nature, like it’s something they’ve done a million times. Then she leans down and kisses my mom on the temple, and goes to the piano to play some more. That helps shift the mood a bit, and after a while my mom stands and takes the baby from Ari and stands there, rocking him back and forth, singing the lyrics of “O Holy Night” quietly to him as his mother plays it. She’s still crying a little, but just a little. 

After a while, my eyes are feeling heavy. I look at my watch and realize it’s close to midnight. 

“Oh my,” I say. “Kids, it’s time for bed!” That breaks any remnants of emotionality in the room.

The kids - all five of them - set up a howling lament. 

“Don’t even start,” Leo says next to me, just as I say, “It’s way past your bedtime.” Juan is nodding his support as Sylvia sits up and runs her fingers through her hair. “What your tía said,” she murmurs. 

Bella gets up and climbs onto Ari and Dante. They shift around a bit and Ari wraps an arm around her so she doesn’t fall off their laps. “Are you going to be here in the morning?” she asks Dante.

“Yep. I’m spending the night with Uncle Ari, so we’ll both be here when you wake up,” Dante assures her.

“Do you like to spend the night with Uncle Ari?” she asks.

Dante gets this wicked little smile on his face.

“Oh, yes. Sleeping with your Uncle Ari is my favorite thing in the _ whole world,”  _ he says earnestly.

“Dante,” his mother admonishes, while Sam groans and my dad closes his eyes and shakes his head and my mother rolls her eyes, embarrassed. Ari flushes and bites his lip to keep from laughing. 

“Uncle Dante?” Sylvia’s son, Max, says, standing up and drifting towards their chair. “You weren’t always part of our family.”

“No, Max. I wasn’t.”

“Will you always be part of our family now?” Max asks. Dante grins. 

“Yes, I will. I’ll always be here. You can get used to me.” And then he snakes out an arm and pulls Max onto their laps as well, and both kids are giggling and squealing. 

“Can Uncle Ari and Uncle Dante put us to bed?” Rafe asks, and I smile at him, because I know he’s a little jealous of the attention his sister and cousin are getting.

“It’s okay with me,” I say, glancing over at Leo and then at Juan and Sylvia. They all nod in agreement. “If they want to,” I add, glancing at Ari and Dante. They’re both beaming. 

“Of course. Get in line, kids! We’re making a train,” Dante says, carefully depositing Bella and Max on to the floor so he can extricate himself from Ari and stand up. “Ari, you be the caboose.” 

Ari scowls at him playfully. “Why do I have to be the caboose?” he asks, his eyes narrowed. 

“Because I’m always the caboose,” Dante says over his shoulder, winking, and Ari’s eyes get wide and he doubles over laughing and frankly, I’m a bit embarrassed. I have no idea what the statement even means, but it’s clearly something sexual because Sam is groaning again and Mrs. Quintana says, “Dante!” again in an exasperated tone. Thankfully, none of the kids have a clue that Dante keeps making jokes about his sex life with their uncle, so I just lean into Leo and laugh. 

“This whole situation is so bizarre,” I say, once the kids have all kissed us goodnight and made it upstairs. 

“Tell me about it,” Sylvia says. She’s pulling on her coat, as are Juan and the Quintanas, so Leo and I follow suit. 

“I’m not sure you can understand,” I say to the Quintanas. “How much my family has changed because of you guys. Because of Dante.” 

Mrs. Quintana smiles, and then she says, softly, “I think we do understand. At least somewhat. Dante was never as...sad...as Ari was, but he was always alone. No matter how many friends he had, it was clear he was alone. Sometimes Sam and I would worry about him, worry that he would never find a soulmate.” She glances to her husband, who nods. “The day Dante came home from the pool and told us he’d met the coolest guy in the universe, we knew something was different. He was  _ glowing. _ After he went upstairs, Sam looked at me and said, ‘everything just changed.’”

“So you knew?” Leo asks.

She glances around at the other parents, unsure how to respond. My mom is the one who answers. “I think we all knew,” she says. “But we all took different amounts of time admitting it to ourselves.” 

I smile at them, in awe of...well, everything. 

“We’ll see you in the morning,” my dad says, pulling me into a hug. I can’t remember the last time he hugged me.

I hug him back. 

  
  
  
  
  



	19. catching up with Gina and Susie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says. Also, a little hint of smut and a dose of happiness, because apparently that's just how it is in Ari-and-Dante-land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a smutfic that goes along with this chapter and contains two "missing scenes." It can be found here: [Before and After.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592813) Only read if you enjoy NSFW content!

DANTE

When our friends arrive, Ari and I aren’t ready to go. 

Far from it, really. I’d spent the afternoon watching him work out in the basement--one of my favorite pastimes --and then I’d been lying on his bed reading over his history essay when he’d come in from the shower, dripping all over the floor and clad in nothing but a towel.

If you can accurately imagine how Aristotle Mendoza looks dripping wet and clad in a towel, you will understand that I can’t be blamed for my actions. 

Anyway, yeah. When our friends arrive, we aren’t ready to go.

“My dudes,” Tone says. He’s cracked the door the smallest amount possible and seems to be looking everywhere but inside. Then, in Spanish, he says, “We’ll, uh...wait downstairs.”

I turn my face on the pillow so I can look at Ari. He was already flushed from what we’d been doing, but now his face has that distinct hue it gets when he’s mortified. I laugh and knock my forehead against his. “Poor guy,” I say.

“How long do you think he was standing there?” Ari’s voice is hoarse. 

“The shortest amount possible. Don’t worry, Ari. I don’t think he has any interest in watching us have sex.” Ari thinks about this a minute.

“Poor guy, indeed. Doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he mumbles, and I laugh so hard my eyes tear up. 

  
  


We get dressed and head downstairs. Sara and Susie are squashed in an armchair, heads bent close together, looking through the art book I brought over the first time I met Mr. and Mrs. Mendoza. I smile to see it. They’ve been hanging out pretty consistently for a few weeks, and it seems like it’s going well. I talked to Sara about it at work one night recently. When I asked her how things were going with Susie, her eyes lit up.

“Honestly? Amazing.” She beamed at me. _“She’s_ amazing. I don’t know if I’m gay, or bi, or if I just like _her,_ but I do. I really like her.”

I beamed back at her. “That’s awesome, Sara. I have to be honest, I was a little worried that you wouldn’t like the whole girl-thing once you’d tried it. I mean, I never really did.” 

She laughed and played with her hair. She did that a lot - played with her hair. Freddy was always warning her not to do it if the health department dropped by. 

“The funny thing is, as soon as I found out she was eyeing me, and I really looked at her like that, well.” Sara shrugged. “It was like fireworks.” She laughed again, this time sounding shy. “That sounds corny. But I had just never been so attracted to anyone. It was like my eyes were open for the first time. That’s why I gave her my number.” 

“Sounds pretty gay-or-bi,” I said, and we both laughed. 

Ari had talked to Susie, too. He told me she was fully aware that Sara might just be bi-curious, and that she’d promised him she wasn’t going to let herself catch feelings until she got a better read on the situation. He had laughed. 

“Good luck with that,” he’d said. “You can’t control catching feelings. Trust me. I tried.” 

But that was several weeks ago, and I had a sneaking suspicion feelings were starting to catch. They had gotten to where they spent every waking minute together, and Sara talked about her nonstop at work. Ari had told me Susie had doodled hearts with “S & S” inside them all over her notebooks. 

So that was good. Gina and Tone were...well. I wasn’t sure _what_ they were. He seemed really into her, and sometimes she seemed into him, but sometimes she just seemed annoyed with him. I was hoping to get a chance to ask her about it tonight, if I could find a moment alone with her.

“Finally,” she says now, rolling her eyes. She’s grinning playfully, though. She’s really a cool girl. As much as I know it hurt her that Ari and I are together, she’s been nothing but supportive and loving and kind. I think she really does love Ari. Like, she truly wants him to be happy, and is happy that he is. That’s not common. 

“Let’s do this,” Tone says, and high-fives Ari. They’re pretty good friends now, I think. They’re actually pretty similar in some ways, like in how neither of them wants to chit-chat just for the hell of it. They work well together, and I guess sometimes that’s enough of a connection to form a friendship. 

Ari and I give kisses to Legs (neither of his parents are home, or else we’d give kisses to them, too), and then we all file out to Sara’s station wagon. With the back seats folded down, it holds all of us. I have to sit a little hunched over, and so do Tone and Ari, but Gina is so small her head doesn’t even come close to the ceiling of the car. Susie is in the passenger seat, and she cranks up the U2 so loud no one can hold a conversation, but I don’t think any of us mind. 

When we get to the desert, Tone opens up the cooler and tosses everyone a beer. Everyone except Sara, that is. She doesn’t drink, or smoke pot, or anything. She says she wants to stay completely in control of her mind at all times. I’m not sure how that works...surely everyone’s mind gets away from them sometimes, with or without substances...but it works out well for us. She has a huge car and she’s happy to be the DD. 

Ari does his magic and within a few minutes, there’s a huge campfire going. Good thing, too. Nights in the desert get cold, especially in January.

We all sit around the fire and talk and laugh and drink. Sara leaves the hatchback open, and after a little while she and Susie climb in there and lie down and start kissing. Ari and Tone start poking at the fire and talking in Spanish about work. I take my chance and scoot closer to Gina.

“How ya doing?” I ask her, nudging her shoulder with mine. She shrugs and stares into the fire. It’s a little weird that she’s not deflecting with a bright, “I’m fine!” but it makes me think I’m onto something. 

She shrugs again. I decide to go a more direct route.

“How are things with Tone?” 

She sighs and glances at him. He’s telling some story to Ari about the newest hire, who is the perfectly infuriating (but amusing) combination of incompetent and arrogant. Ari is laughing and interjecting with his own comments, and it makes me happy to see him so engaged. He’s come a very, very long way since we met. 

“I don’t know,” Gina says after a moment. “He’s not Ari, you know?” Her voice is small, and my heart sinks. 

“I’m sorry, Gina.”

She puts her hand on my arm. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Dante.”

“Well, I mean. If it wasn’t for me, I bet he’d have been into you.”

She laughs. “Um, do you not realize your boyfriend is gay?” I laugh, a little uncomfortably, because I’m thinking about Ileana. I do think Ari’s gay, and he says he’s gay, but I also remember that he thought he was in love with Ileana. It still stings to think about. I mean, sure, I experimented with girls, too, but I never thought I was in love with anyone but Ari.

“I don’t know, Gina. You’re pretty cute,” I say, making light. She laughs again.

“I know,” she says, and I grin at her, because one thing we have in common is that we acknowledge our worth. “But before he ever let himself know he was in love with you, he was telling me to fuck off.”

I laugh. “He never said that to you!”

“He might as well have!” She’s smiling, but her eyes are earnest. “He made it clear he was a hundred and ten percent not interested.” She shrugs. “And I _am_ cute. So, he must be gay.” 

That makes me laugh so loudly Tone and Ari look over. I shake my head at Ari to let him know it’s not worth sharing, and he smiles his beautiful smile at me and goes back to his conversation with Tone. 

“Love your logic, there, Gina. But yeah. Okay. Fair enough.” She smiles at me. “Still, though. I’m sorry you can’t have...well, what you want. Wanting him, and thinking he didn’t want me back, was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.” 

I almost regret my words, because Gina is suddenly staring at the fire, quite obviously blinking back tears. I silently will Ari and Tone not to look over, not to notice. At least not Tone. Ari would understand it wasn’t time to play a hundred questions, but Tone would probably want to know what the hell I did to make his girlfriend cry.

“Anyway, it’s not fair. Tone is cool. He’s sweet, and respectful, and he’s hot. It’s not fair to compare him to Ari.”

I look at her, unsure what to say. I take her hand. She grips mine tightly, and then we just sit there holding hands and staring into the fire. I rub my thumb on the back of her hand, and she holds on tight. I think she needs to cry, but she’s not. She’s strong. Stronger than me. If I need to cry, I cry. I’m not ashamed of that, but I still appreciate her strength.

Eventually Ari sits down beside me, and puts his arm around me, and I know he can clearly see how my fingers are interlaced with Gina’s, but he doesn’t say a word. He just acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world, though I’m sure his mind is full of questions. 

God, I love him. 

  
  


ARI

While Gina and Dante are murmuring to each other by the fire, Tone looks over at me and says, “I don’t know, man.”

I glance where he’s looking, which is right at them. “What don’t you know?” I ask. I'm pretty sure I know, though.

“I don’t know, man,” he says again. “Sometimes she acts like she’s really into me, and sometimes she acts like she’s barely putting up with me.” 

I think about this. I try to imagine what it would feel like if Dante was just putting up with me. 

I can’t do it. I can’t imagine a reality where he’s just putting up with me. For one thing, Dante doesn’t put up with bullshit, ever. He would never pretend to be into something--or someone--that he wasn’t into. 

But more than that. More than that. His love is ingrained in me. I’m as sure that he’ll love me tomorrow as I am that the sun will overtake the night. I know that he wants me the same way I know that when I jump in a pool, I’ll get wet. It’s just the way things are. 

And looking at Tone looking at Gina with that wistful, sad expression, I feel my heart swell to bursting with gratitude. There are people who would say you shouldn’t marry the first person you ever dated, but seriously. To know, so surely, that I’m loved? And to love him back in return? To get butterflies in my stomach when he touches me, and to catch my breath every time our eyes meet, and to feel like I’m melting whenever he touches me? I mean, seriously. Who could dream of anything more? Especially compared to this. To what is on Tone’s face when he looks at Gina. The despair that’s trying to win out over the desperate hope. Who would want that? Who would want to “play the field” when you’ve already won the game? 

Some people, maybe. Not me. I’ll take my first significant other and keep him, thank you very much. I’ll take him home and watch him paint and read him poems and fuck him senseless. I’ll take him home and marry him. I’ll hand him my life. Anytime.

“Maybe she just wants to take it slow,” I suggest, and I know it sounds lame but frankly I don’t know what else to say. I mean, he’s not wrong. I’ve noticed that Gina seems less-than-enthusiastic sometimes. 

I hope it’s not because of me.

Gina and Dante start holding hands, and I know I’ll find out. He’ll fill me in later. I glance back at Tone, who looks anguished behind his stoicism. (That’s the thing. Once you’ve been anguished behind stoicism, you can recognize it in others right off the bat.) It hurts my heart. Without even thinking about it, I sit down next to Dante and put my arm around him. After a minute, Tone comes over and sits down next to Gina. I don’t look at them, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s left a bit of space between them. He doesn’t try to touch her. 

For some reason, I remember that time in the desert--in this very spot, actually--when Dante and I got high and stripped naked and ran around the truck. I remember how I thought that I didn’t know what I would do if he touched me. I’d been thinking about this moment a lot lately. I guess, in some ways, it’s one of my favorite memories of before we got together. Because I was vulnerable. I tried so hard not to be vulnerable back then, but something about the combination of the pot and the rain and the nakedness and the breathlessness and _him_ just...got me. He’d broken my walls, and on some level I knew there was no going back. Even if I didn’t let myself know it. 

Gina slides her hand out of Dante’s, and scoots closer to Tone. She puts her head on his shoulder. I feel kind of sorry for him. I don’t understand why she’s being so hot and cold with him, but then again, I think I do. I just don’t _want_ to understand. 

I pull Dante tighter against me. He glances over, and our eyes meet, and he smiles. 

  
  


DANTE

I love our friends, but I’m super relieved when we decide to go. The tension between Gina and Tone is so...awkward, and Susie and Sara have basically been non-present because they’re so wrapped up in each other, and frankly I’m jealous, because I want to be non-present due to being wrapped up in Ari, but I feel some weird responsibility to be present for Gina and Tone.

“I think, next time, it should just be us,” I say to Ari, once we’re back in his room. He’s stripping off his clothes and it suddenly hits me that I’m not even paying that much attention. I’m sitting on his bed, watching him because we’re having a conversation, but then I realize that I’m not watching him in the way I normally do. I mean, the guy is taking his clothes off, and I’m just sitting here thinking about our friends. 

It doesn’t upset me to realize this. It makes me happy. Because that’s apparently where we are, now. I can get turned on watching him workout, and I can jump his bones when he gets out of the shower and saunters into the room in a towel, and I can watch him strip down to his boxers and not even really notice because we’re having a conversation. 

It feels a little like we’re married. In, like, a really healthy marriage. This makes me smile.

He catches my eye. “What are you grinning about? And I agree. Anytime you want it to just be us, say the word,” he says. “You’ll get literally zero argument.”

I laugh. I decide not to address my pontifications about our relationship development. 

“Yeah, it’s just so awkward with Gina and Tone. And Susie and Sara are so into each other, it’s...well. Also awkward.”

Ari flops down onto the bed beside me, clad only in boxers. I _do_ notice, now, because his body is just so damn beautiful. I tear my eyes away from his chest and arms because I can feel him staring at me. I meet his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, softly, and once again, I’m amazed at how much our brains run on the same track, and also how much we adore each other. I put my hand into his messy long hair, feeling how silky it is, and close my fingers together so it pulls, just a little. He exhales and closes his eyes so sensually I have to remind myself to breathe. He opens them again, though, right away, and says, “You have no idea how many times I thought that. That you’re beautiful.” His mouth quirks up on one side, not quite a smile. “If I had followed a single thought through to its conclusion, I would have known I was in love with you all along.” 

Then he tugs on my t-shirt. “Take your clothes off,” he murmurs, and then proceeds to do it for me. His lips on my body are warm and soft, and I tilt my head back on the pillow and put my arms above my head and let him do what he wants to me, because everything he wants to do is something I long for on the regular. 

Life is good. 

Really, really good. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I think this fic is drawing to a close~~. Or, at least, it'll keep being randomly updated for a while. I have been writing some "yellow curtains" fics (i.e. other versions of them getting together) which I'll probably post in a string soon...


	20. decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk about their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this (and frankly, all subsequent chapters) is for [yucatanmafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatanmafia/pseuds/yucatanmafia) for somehow saying the magic words that got me re-inspired to add to this fic! It's got direction again. More chapters in the works.

DANTE

I’m sitting on my bed trying to make up a song on my guitar (which, to be honest, has two broken strings, so I’m not getting very far) when Ari charges into my room. 

“I got it,” he says, a little breathlessly. I know what he’s talking about, and it’s the best news ever, but I still get distracted because of...well, him. He has on that red tank top I love so much, and denim shorts and black Converse. His hair has gotten super-long, so long that he keeps it in a ponytail most of the time now, but these locks always escape and frame his face in the prettiest way. And his deep, dark eyes are so full of excitement, they pull me in. 

I realize I’m staring, and he realizes I’m staring, and he’s getting amused. “Dante,” he says, and waves the envelope in the air for emphasis. “You can undress me with your eyes later. We’re in!”

I had gotten my acceptance to UTEP the day before yesterday, and we’d been waiting on eggshells for him to get his. The way we’d decided to handle the college thing was to each make a list of schools we were interested in, then apply to the ones we had in common, then go to the best one we both got into. Then, after getting accepted at some of our best options, we’d abandoned the plan and gotten our hearts set on UTEP. Because of Joaquin. 

It was Ari who had brought it up. “What about Joaquin?” he’d said a couple of weeks ago, when we’d both gotten acceptance letters to UTA. I’d looked at him blankly. 

“What do you mean?” I’d asked.

“Austin is over eight hours away,” he’d said, looking uncomfortable. We had skateboarded to the park, and he was lounging in the sun while I tried mastering the art of kick-flipping (easier said than done, may I add). He squinted up at me and waited for an answer.

“I know. But it’s where we both want to go,” I’d said. I was confused. We’d decided together that Austin was probably the coolest city in Texas, and we’d both been over the moon to get accepted. It seemed like the deal was sealed. That was where we’d go.

“I know. But I can’t stop thinking about Joaquin.” 

He looked serious, so I quit playing with the skateboard and sat down beside him. I was wearing shoes to practice the kickflip; I’d tried it exactly once without shoes and decided that sometimes, shoes are good. But I took them off once I sat down beside him. He grinned and reached over to squeeze my left foot affectionately. 

“What about Joaquin, Ari? Joaquin is fine.”

“I know. I just...I don’t know, Dante.” He put his hands over his face for a minute. I waited. Then he took them down and took hold of my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “It’s just...I’ve been thinking. About how hard it was to grow up without Bernardo. I  _ know _ it’s different.” I had started to interject, and he read my mind. I shut up and listened. “I just...look, by the time we’re done with college, Joaquin will be four. And I know that’s really young and he won’t remember these years, but on some level, I think he will. Don’t you?” 

I wasn’t sure what to say. Frankly, I was feeling a little shitty that I hadn’t thought of this.

“And then who knows where we’ll go after college. We could end up anywhere. I mean, who knows. And I just...I don’t want to be absent from his life, you know? I don’t want to be a brother that just shows up at holidays. I want to be there for him. With him. While we can, at least.”

Part of me wanted to argue, because I wasn’t convinced Joaquin would remember any of this. But Ari and Joaquin had some kind of bond I didn’t fully understand. Joaquin could be fussy for everyone, even my mom, but if Ari picked him up, he’d calm right down. My mom had even called Ari in the middle of the night to come over and hold him just so he’d settle. Twice. 

And Ari had missed Bernardo so intensely his whole life, it had shaped who he was. I didn’t want to do that to Joaquin, either. 

“Are you sure?” I finally asked. “I mean, I don’t really think he’ll remember his first four years, anyway. I mean...” I hesitated. I didn’t want to make things painful. “You don’t really have many memories of Bernardo, do you?”

He sighed. “No. I don’t. But...I remember that he was my buddy. He was a good brother. Until you came along, he was the most important person to me, even though I barely remembered him. So it’s got to mean something, these early years.” He sighed again, and I could feel that his palm was sweaty. He was nervous. I squeezed his hand. “And Joaquin,” he said. “He’s  _ my _ buddy. I can’t just...disappear.” 

I knew he was right. Joaquin was attached to Ari in a way he wasn’t to anyone else. It really would be cruel to leave, even if he never consciously remembered. And anyway, now that I was thinking about it, the idea of only seeing my brother occasionally kind of chilled my bones. If we went off to Austin in the fall, we probably wouldn’t be back until Thanksgiving. Joaquin might be walking or talking by then. We would miss so much. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought that through. 

And Ari had. Because he is literally the best human being on the planet. My heart overflowed, as it did so often now. I squeezed his hand again.

“UTEP it is, then.” 

  
  


And now he’s in my room waving his acceptance letter around, and all I can think about is taking that red tank top off of him. He laughs. 

_ “Dante.  _ Focus, love.” 

That makes me laugh, too. 

“I  _ am _ focused, Ari,” I say. He rolls his eyes, but they’re so full of affection, the gesture is adorable. I set the guitar on the floor and say, “This is fantastic news. Come over here and celebrate with me.”

He drops the letter on my nightstand and crawls over me so that he’s between me and the wall. I lie down next to him, and we both prop ourselves up on our elbows and grin at each other. “So. In a few months, we’ll be sharing a dorm room,” I say. He flops onto his back dramatically, making me laugh.

“It feels too good to be true,” he murmurs.

We both lie there, thinking quietly. I let my fingertips walk over his chest distractedly. I try to picture sharing a dorm room. Meeting up between classes. After a minute, I say, “Do you still want to get married this summer?” I had proposed this idea a couple of months earlier, and he’d agreed. But it had been very spur-of-the-moment, so it seemed worth revisiting. 

He rolls back onto his side, props his head onto his elbow again. “I’ll marry you any time. We’re already married, as far as I’m concerned. We can do it this summer, we can do it ten years from now. Hell, we can do it fifty years from now. I’ll still want to.” 

I’m a little too choked up to speak for a minute. He smiles at me, and rolls over onto me and kisses me softly. “Do  _ you _ still want to get married this summer?”

“I echo what you said. Any time. But I  _ do _ really like calling you my fiance. There’s something so....I don’t know. Archetypal, about it. It kind of embodies a rest-of-our-lives-ahead-of-us vibe which really captures how I feel.” 

He raises his eyebrows and grins. “Well, let’s wait, then. You can go around Uni introducing me to all your new friends as your fiance. Get your fix.” 

“And you can introduce me to  _ your  _ new friends that way.”

He shook his head. “I won’t have new friends. I have too many already.”

That boy can always make me laugh. “But what about getting married?” I ask, after a minute. 

“We’ll get married, Dante. That’s the whole point of being engaged.” I goose him, and his whole body jerks and he laughs loudly. Then he gets serious. “I’m telling you, love, we’re married already, as far as I’m concerned. We can wait on a ceremony. I mean, maybe that would even be better.”

“Why?”

“Well, if we wait until we graduate from college and get jobs, we’ll have money. It seems weird to be married and still have our parents paying for college.” 

We both know our parents would happily foot the bill, but I get what he’s saying. 

“And then we can go on a really extravagant honeymoon,” he continues. “Like, I don’t know. Paris. Brazil. Disneyland.” I start laughing so hard he rolls off of me, presumably to give me air. 

“It sounds like you want to wait,” I eventually manage.

“What I want is to have a tiny ceremony and a long honeymoon.” He winks at me, and I laugh again. “Seriously, Dante. I’ll do whatever makes you happy. The whole point of marriage is the promise, you know? And I feel confident in our promise already.” I stare into his eyes for a minute, loving him more than life itself, and marveling at my luck, and feeling just a little bit smug because he trusts my love, and getting Ari Mendoza to trust anyone’s love was a feat. 

“No need to rush for the sake of rushing,” I say quietly. He nods. “No need to hold off for the sake of holding off.” He nods again. “It’s kinda the best possible scenario.” 

He kisses my forehead, then my nose. “It is definitely that,” he murmurs, his face an inch away from mine. 

“So what’s the decision?” I ask, a little confused. 

“Make out.”

“What?” 

He starts kissing my neck. I laugh. “Ari! I mean what’s the decision about getting married?”

“Yes,” he murmurs. 

And then I forget all about talking and focus on getting that tank top off of him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Communication! Flexibility! Eyes on the shared prize! #relationshipgoals


	21. spring break plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari has a secret plan that he executes one mission at a time.

ARI

I wanted to go to the beach for spring break. The idea kind of crept into my head, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’d never actually been to the beach. It was one of those things my family always meant to do, but we had never really gotten around to it. 

I talked to my dad about it. He said he thought Corpus Christi was probably the best bet, but it was almost 10 hours of driving. He said that like it was a bad thing, but 10 hours in the truck with Dante Quintana half in my lap? Sounded like heaven to me. 

I asked my dad if he thought my truck would make it. He looked at me. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.” 

He considered. “Your truck should be able to make it. But we’ll have Mr. Rodriguez look at it, just to be sure.” 

“You think he’ll still work on my truck after...you know.” Julian, one of the assholes who had beaten up Dante, had worked for Mr. Rodriguez. I had kicked Julian’s ass in the street, and Mr. Rodriguez had seen it all and called my dad. I wasn’t so sure he was my biggest fan.

“Mr. Rodriguez knows the whole story, and he’s a good friend. He’ll be happy to,” my dad had said. The next afternoon, as soon as school let out, I took it over to Mr. Rodriguez’s shop. Dante had swim practice after school. I usually got there early and read in my car, but I took advantage of the time to get the truck checked out. I hadn’t mentioned my idea to Dante yet. I had gotten it in my head that I wanted to surprise him. 

Turns out my dad was right. Mr. Rodriguez was as friendly to me as he’d always been. I was seriously hoping I didn’t run into Juilan there, just because I didn’t want to have to fight the urge to break his nose again, but when I looked around the shop, he was nowhere to be seen. 

“He doesn’t work here anymore, son,” Mr. Rodriguez said. He was bent over my engine, checking the tightness of a bolt or something, and I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed me look around. He straightened up and looked at me. “I fired him. I don’t pretend to understand your...relationship...with that boy he hurt, but you clearly care about him, and your dad’s an old friend, so.” He shrugged and bent back over the engine, like there was nothing more to be said. I guess there wasn’t. I wasn’t quite able to suppress my grin. Maybe it was vindictive to be happy Julian had gotten fired, but I was happy all the same.

So, mission #1 was accomplished. I went over to Dante’s house two nights later, when he had to work and I didn’t. Freddy usually scheduled us together, just to be nice, but it didn’t always work out that way. Sam and Mrs. Quintana seemed both surprised and happy to see me. Well, after they’d established that Dante was okay and I wasn’t coming to tell them some kind of bad news. I knew they probably worried a little every time he wasn’t home. I understood, because I worried every time he wasn’t home and I wasn’t with him. It’s not like Dante’s powerless - quite the opposite; he’s a force to be reckoned with - but he’s a pacifist, and he’s already proven that in a choice between fighting, running away, and letting himself be hurt, he’d choose the latter. I wish he wouldn’t, but then again, it’s just part of who he is. He wouldn’t be Dante if he wasn’t like that. 

Still, it’s a little scary. I try not to think about it, because that’s actually the kind of thing it’s smart to not think about. I know the Quintanas try not to think about it, either. But we all do.

“Dante’s good. I just dropped him off at work,” I said in response to Mrs. Quintana’s question. Their faces both relaxed into welcoming smiles. 

“Well come in! We were just about to sit down to dinner. Let me lay you a place,” she said, as Sam pulled me into a hug. 

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner,” I said, which wasn’t strictly true. Whatever she had made smelled incredible. My stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, and they both laughed. 

“Don’t be silly, Ari. Come on,” Sam said. Mrs. Quintana had already turned her back on us and was heading into the kitchen. 

So I ate dinner with them. I thought it might be a little weird to eat dinner with Dante’s parents without Dante there, but I was happy to discover I was wrong. I had underestimated how easy it had become to be with them. 

I told them about my idea. “I just want to make sure you guys aren’t already planning something for spring break. Or him, for that matter. Has he mentioned anything to you?”

“Not a thing, Ari. I think he’s assuming it will just be the norm. You guys working, and hanging out, and shacking up together every night since school is out,” Sam said. I felt myself blush. He winked at me and that made me blush even harder. 

“Dante will absolutely love it,” Mrs. Quintana said, saving me from trying to speak while I was so flustered. “We took him to the beach once, but he was just a little boy. I doubt he remembers it.”

“Cool. Well, I just thought it might be fun to surprise him, so…”

They exchanged a look that was all smiles. “He’ll love it, Ari,” Sam confirmed.

  
  


So, mission #2 was accomplished. I was starting to think this might actually work out. Instead of reading at Cathedral the next day, I went home after school so I could make some calls to hotels. I ended up booking a seventh floor seaside room. I was super glad I had been saving money for so long, because I had more than enough for the room and what I calculated for gasoline and food. I also felt pretty lucky to have found a room, because spring break was only three weeks away. The first couple of hotels I’d called up hadn’t had any vacancies, and the third one only had a ground level room that faced the street. I felt like I’d lucked out to find a seaside room in a hotel I could afford. 

Mission #3, accomplished.

Mission #4 was to talk to Freddy. This was easy, because Dante spent most of his time in the front of house, and I was in back. Freddy had to go back and forth, of course, but he preferred back of house and spent as much time back there as he could. As I’d expected, he was happy to give us both the week off without telling Dante. 

“I’ll give you guys a schedule, but it won’t be real,” Freddy said. He seemed like he was enjoying the whole idea immensely. Honestly, he always seemed like he enjoyed watching my relationship with Dante. I was pretty sure he was straight; he had a girlfriend, for one thing, but he also didn’t  _ feel _ gay to me. I don’t really know how to explain it. But he seemed to be a big fan of my relationship with Dante all the same. He was super supportive, anyway. 

So, all plans were in place, and I just had to wait. Fortunately, the weeks didn’t crawl by or anything. I found that I rarely got bored anymore, now that Dante and I were together. I had spent almost every waking minute of my life before I met him bored. (I actually prefer not to think back on all those years of isolation and brooding. It’s weird to remember how miserable I was. It was like watching a movie about someone else’s life. It didn’t feel like that could have really been me.) And then, even after I knew him, I still got bored when we weren’t together. We spent a ton of time together that first summer, but then he moved away and when he got back we only hung out sometimes. That was an intense summer. It was like we had become friends right at the tail end of our childhoods, and then suddenly we found ourselves in this weird ecotone where we were trying to figure out how to be not-kids and not-adults. And we were in love with each other, but he was acutely aware (and quite verbal) about it, and I was still deep in denial. And then there was that agonizing first kiss that nearly killed me to pull away from, and that broke his heart so terribly. 

Yeah. Last summer was weird. Anyway, the point is, I still got bored last summer. I lifted weights and read a lot, but it’s not like any of that is super entertaining. Dante, however,  _ is _ super entertaining. Now that we’re together, we spend as much time together as we can every single day, and it’s always fun (just being in his presence is fun), so time is just always flying by. 

So yeah. The time went by quickly enough and suddenly I realized it was two days before the trip and I needed to figure out how to pack a bag for him. I dropped by his house the next day after school, and totally lucked out because his mom was home. Since she’s a therapist and his dad’s a professor, they don’t have like a regular 9-5 schedule. But she was there, and happy to see me, as always. 

“I need to pack a bag for Dante,” I explained. She smiled. 

“I’m way ahead of you, Ari. I’ve been sneaking bits and pieces of his clothing out of the laundry for the past few days and putting it aside. I’ve got him a bag almost ready to go. If you want to go up and grab a swimsuit and a couple of extra pairs of socks from his room, it’ll be all set.” 

I felt a little weird going through Dante’s drawers when he wasn’t there, but not that weird, because I went through his drawers almost every time I slept over because we borrowed each other’s clothes all the time. In fact, half the clothes in those drawers were mine. The swimsuit I grabbed for him was actually one of mine. For swim practice, he wore this super hot little Speedo thing, and I paused for a minute to lament that there wouldn’t be a graceful way to get it packed, since he wore it at practice every day. Shame. 

  
  
  


Finally, the day was upon us. We slept at his house Friday night. I had already told my parents goodbye that morning when I left for school and stashed our bags behind the seats in the cab of my truck so that we could leave town first thing Saturday morning. 

We went to the desert with our friends that night. Gina seemed to have turned a corner regarding Tone, or at least she was in a positive phase about him, because they’d been getting along well. Sara and Susie were as embarrassingly all over each other as usual. It made me wonder if that’s how Dante and I had seemed to everyone at first. Then, as we sat by the campfire wrapped around each other and sneaking kisses during the group conversation, it occurred to me that it might still be how we seemed to everyone. 

To be honest, the thought made me smile. 

“You guys want to have a party Wednesday night? My parents always work late on Wednesdays,” Tone asked. I hadn’t told any of our friends about the trip. I didn’t trust any of them not to let it slip. Luckily, I didn’t have to fake enthusiasm about the party idea because no one expected me to be enthusiastic about a party. 

“I’m busy Wednesday night,” I said, and everyone laughed. 

I laughed, too, because I actually planned to be quite busy Wednesday night, and I planned for Dante to be, too. But I couldn’t exactly say that right then.

I’d hoped we could somehow manage to fall asleep at a decent hour, since we had a full day of driving ahead of us and my goal was to leave by 8:00AM. (I wanted to get there in plenty of time to see the sunset. It seemed like a great first night at the beach, to see the sunset.) But when we snuggled down in his bed, clad only in our boxers, he started letting his hands roam while he kissed my neck, and, well. I wasn’t about to stop him. 

So when I woke him up at 7:30 and he protested that he’d only had a couple of hours of sleep, it wasn’t that much of an exaggeration. I’m not gonna lie. When it comes to sex, we are absolutely terrible at time management. 

“C’mon, Dante. Get up.”

“Why, Ari?” he moaned, rolling over and trying to pull me with him. I wouldn’t budge, which made him look back at me with one eye open suspiciously. “Why aren’t you cuddling me?” he demanded, and it was such a ridiculously adorable thing to say I busted out laughing. 

“We’ve gotta get up, love,” I said, and kissed his temple because I couldn’t help myself. I just love that guy so fucking much. He huffed and shut his eyes again, so I decided it was surprise time. “We’re going on a trip. A long one. We should head out.”

Suddenly, he wasn’t sleepy at all. He sat up so fast, his head nearly hit me in the face. “A trip?” he squeaked, and I melted. The older we get, the less his voice squeaks in this one certain way I love, but it still happens when he gets particularly excited. I treasure it every time. 

“Yeah,” I said, once my heart had slowed down a little. 

“What? Where? Who, me and you?”

I nodded, laughing again, this time out of sheer happiness. “Yep. Me and you. For the week. But I’m not telling you where, yet. That part will stay a surprise a little longer.”

His whole face was lit up. “Is it another gift from our parents?”

“Not this time. This time, it’s my gift to you. And myself,” I added, winking, and he let out another squeal of delight. “Okay, you’re going to have to stop making that sound or else I’m going to  _ have _ to do things to you that will delay our departure,” I growled. He laughed in that free, open way he has. Then, suddenly, his face fell.

“What about work? We’re supposed to work several shifts this week…”

“No we’re not. Freddy gave you a phony schedule.”

I watched his face as he processed what I said. “How long have you been planning this?” he asked, sounding a little incredulous.

“A few weeks,” I said, shrugging.

He was gazing at me with complete adoration, his eyes filling with tears. “You really are taking this whole best-boyfriend-ever promise seriously,” he whispered. I smiled at him, then leaned forward and kissed his lips. 

“I haven’t even gotten started yet,” I murmured. “Now come on. Get up. Let’s go.”

  
  
  
  



	22. road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys eventually make it to the beach, but not without sex, tears, and Taco Bell. 
> 
> Angst/comfort ahead. Trigger warning: (remembered) details of violence/physical assault.

DANTE

This has been the most incredible day I’ve had in a very, very long time. Which is kind of ironic, being that it’s been spent almost entirely in the truck. 

It was so many things. For one, the long drive forced me to find numerous new ways to snuggle with Ari while we drive. I started out the regular way, with my left leg thrown over his right, his arm around my shoulders and my head tucked into his neck. We were both so giddy to be going on a trip together that we spent at least the first hour singing along with the radio. Loudly. The windows were down, and we were on the highway so the wind was whipping in so hard it was hard to even hear the radio, but Ari turned it all the way up and then we were just having a total blast shouting out lyrics and air-guitaring and such. 

Eventually I got tired of singing and started kissing his neck. “You’re going to make me crash,” he’d said, but he didn’t sound like he wanted me to stop. Quite the opposite, in fact. I sucked on his neck until he had a dark bruise, and when I pulled away I almost told him to pull over because he looked so damn sexy. His lips were parted, and his eyes were wide, and he was breathing heavily. I love that I can get that reaction out of him. Him! My dark, angsty Ari. (Not that he’s angsty anymore…) 

Then I kissed his temple, and his cheek, and his shoulder, and then I pulled his arm off my shoulders and planted little kisses all the way down, starting with his (incredibly gorgeous) bicep and ending with each fingertip. He _did_ pull over, then, without me having to ask. Just jumped onto an exit and parked in a deserted corner of a closed-down Kmart parking lot and pretty much jumped my bones. Even though there was no one around, it was broad daylight, so in unspoken agreement, we kept our clothes (mostly) on. That didn’t inhibit either one of us from having a completely mind-blowing time, though. 

Then we sat there in the parking lot for a few minutes, catching our breath and just sort of being quiet. He was playing with my fingers, and I had my other hand in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. After a while, he took a deep breath. 

“You’re my favorite thing in the whole world, Dante,” he said quietly. I kissed his temple. 

“Ditto,” I whispered. He turned his head to look at me, and smiled his enchanting smile.

“Taco Bell?” he asked. I doubled over laughing. It never fails to crack me up when he goes from sweet or sexy to practical in the blink of an eye. 

It makes me extremely happy, to be honest. Because what I know is that it’s all kind of the same for him. What I mean is, it’s all blended. His love and desire for me are infused into his day-to-day existence. They’re not separate from any part of him. I don’t know how to explain it. 

So then we got Taco Bell, and we got back on the road. This time, we kept the windows up so that we could talk. And we talked for hours, about so much. We talked about everything. He had gotten another letter from Bernardo, so we talked about that, and we talked about his relationship with his sisters and how neither of them had seemed surprised that he was gay. We talked about his parents, and my parents, and elementary school teachers we had loved and hated, and I told him stories of my experiences in Chicago, and he told me about a recurring dream he used to have when he was a child. He told me some ideas he had for short stories, and I told him he had better get to writing the minute we got back. I told him I’d paint pictures of scenes from his stories and we could get the whole thing published. He laughed and said that was a pretty lofty aspiration, but he looked happy. 

I told him about the assault. I had never told anyone about it in detail, not even my therapist. It had always seemed too awful to relive, and my therapist had agreed that I shouldn’t talk about the details unless I actually felt inclined to. And I never had; I’d wanted to forget it, actually; but for some reason, I brought it up and then it was like it poured out of me. Like I suddenly needed to talk about it, desperately, right then. I wondered if I’d been needing to for a long time.

A lot of it was kind of fuzzy, but I remembered certain parts with absolute clarity. I remembered that I actually _felt_ my ribs break, when one of the guys was kicking me, and what a surreal experience it was to feel my own bones crack. I had wanted to cry out to him to stop, because I felt like if he kept going he’d break them - break me - beyond repair, and some part of me felt like it was all some huge mistake and they couldn’t really mean to be doing what they were doing, but another part of me knew that knew exactly what they were doing, and that crying out might just make him kick me harder. And anyway it was a moot point, because I couldn’t get enough breath to speak. 

I explained how badly the first few blows hurt, how they knocked me dizzy and sent blinding pain shooting through me, but after the first couple of minutes, I kind of quit feeling pain or even being super aware of what was happening. It’s like the animal in me took over, and I didn’t care about anything except wanting to live. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t breathe, and all I kept thinking was that I _had_ to breathe, I had to stay alive, because I had to see Ari again. I had this image stuck in my head, of Ari coming up out of the water in the pool, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, wiping water out of his eyes so he could see me and as soon as we made eye contact, he grinned this big grin. It was one of my first memories of him, and it just kept replaying in my head, and I wanted to stay alive because of it. Because of _him._

“You actually pictured that while you were getting beaten up?” Ari asked, and that’s when I realized he was crying. I’d been staring out the windshield as I talked, not actually seeing anything ahead of us, but his voice was so hoarse it made me look at him, and that’s when I saw he had tears streaming down his face. They were dripping off his chin. It made _me_ tear up, to see him like that. I’d been feeling pretty detached while I talked. It was like the story itself had taken over me, and I wasn’t even thinking. I was just letting all the memories flood out of me, like they weren’t actually my memories but just some story I’d heard once. But he was clearly wrecked. 

“Ari! Ari,” I said, trying to wrap my arms all the way around him as he drove. I kissed the tears on his cheek. “I’m okay. I’m okay now. We’re here, together.” This only made him cry harder, so I said, “Why don’t you pull over, love?”

  
  


ARI

I did as Dante said. I pulled over, this time onto the shoulder of the highway. And then I gathered him up in my arms and clung to him tightly. He held me and kissed my face and my hair, and he kept reassuring me. Which seemed so wrong. After all, _I_ was the one who let _him_ down. 

“I should have been there,” I finally managed to whisper. 

“Ari, you were _out of town,”_ he breathed, like he was desperate for me to see reason. I shook my head.

“That’s not what I mean. It’s not what I _meant.”_

That day I went to see him at the hospital for the first time after the assault, I’d said, “I should have been here.” I think everyone thought I meant it on that surface level, like I should have been in town, like that would have somehow miraculously kept it from happening. I think they just assumed that the nonsensical nature of such a statement came from how emotional I was; after all, emotion is not rational, and I was very upset at the time, and upset people say ridiculous things. 

But I hadn’t meant that. I hadn’t meant I should have been in town. Not really. Not deep down. Deep down, I meant I should have been _his._ He never would have been kissing Daniel in that alley if I hadn’t denied my own heart. If I hadn’t denied _his_ heart. The only guy he would’ve been kissing anywhere would have been me, and I would never have left him like that. Hell, it wouldn’t have ever been an issue, because Julian Enriquez and Joe Moncada and their whole little band of cronies respected the hell out of me. I had beaten every one of them up at some point or other during junior high, and if they’d seen _me_ kissing Dante in an alley, they would have left us the hell alone. 

I’d been so mad at Daniel, but in reality, the person I was mad at was myself. Because it was all my fault that Daniel had ever even entered the picture. 

And I was just now realizing this, on the side of the dusty highway, with my beautiful boyfriend in my arms trying to comfort me. 

I tried to explain it to him, and he hugged me back as tightly as I was hugging him. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, and that little term of endearment coming out of his mouth nearly broke me. “Ari. Baby. It’s okay.” He pulled back just enough so that he could press his forehead to mine. We kept our arms around each other. “I understand what you’re saying. Why you feel the way you do. But you weren’t ready then. And that’s completely okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay,” I insisted. “I hurt you. And because of me, _they_ hurt you.” In some distant place in my mind, I knew that what I was saying wasn't entirely logical. But it made so much sense in my heart. 

“No.” Dante’s voice was suddenly firm. “Those boys did what they did to me because they were assholes. No one should have to protect me, or anyone else for that matter, from getting beaten up because of kissing. What they chose to do had nothing to do with you and I won’t let you take responsibility for it.” Dante stared at me until I met his eyes and nodded. He was right, and I knew it, even though I still felt awful about that whole weird time period when we’d both been suffering in such intense ways. “And Ari, when I say that it’s okay that you weren’t ready, I freaking _mean_ that. Nobody moves at the same pace, even if they’re on the same road. And there’s no reason you should be ashamed of taking longer than me to figure out you’re gay or deciding to take a chance on love or anything else. I mean, hell, if we’re going to play that game, I’m sure I can find some guy who knew he was gay when he a kid and was loud and proud about it, and then I can be ashamed, too. And you can find an adult who’s still in the closet, or who still has trust issues they can’t overcome, and then you can feel superior to _them.”_ Despite myself, I kind of chuckled, and he smiled victoriously. “You see how ridiculous it is, to be mad at yourself for that?” 

I nodded again, and then I kissed him, because he really is the sweetest, smartest guy in the universe. 

  
  
  


DANTE

Eventually I figured out we were going to the beach, mainly from the direction we were headed. Also, the billboards for crab shacks and parasailing that started to crop up along the highway didn’t hurt. Once I figured it out, Ari kept laughing at me because I couldn’t stop bouncing in my seat. 

“Are you serious? Are you serious right now?” I kept asking, and he just kept laughing. I had very vague memories of the beach from going once as a child, and I was absolutely ecstatic at the idea of spending a week there with Ari. 

“I’m trying to get us there to see the sunset,” Ari told me, giving me a sideways grin. “That’s why I was prodding you out of bed this morning.”

Even with all our stops (along with the two we’d made already, we also gotten dinner at a roadside cafe that sold the best huevos rancheros we’d ever had, plus we stopped once for gas and snacks), we managed to make it by sunset. As though the universe had aligned just for us, we pulled up just in time to witness it. It was actually perfect. We went around a corner, and suddenly, the ocean was right there. Right in front of us. Sand dunes and white-crested waves, crashing into one another in a lazy way. The water went on forever. The sky was a brilliant complexity of deep blue and dark orange, with strings of pink clouds stretched across. The road ended where the beach began, so that we had to turn either right or left, but Ari didn’t do either. He pulled straight ahead into this parking area and turned the truck around. We were both speechless, I think; at any rate, neither of us spoke. We just, in unison, clambered out of the cab and into the bed of the truck, and Ari slipped his hand into mine, and we watched the sky shift and change until finally, everything was purple.

Then he looked at me, and I looked at him, and I felt drunk with love. 

“We made it,” he whispered. 

I shook my head. “We’ve only just started,” I whispered back. 

  


ARI

I guess this is common sense, but it turns out the sunrise at a beach that faces east is even better than the sunset. The water is such a deep blue, and the sky is a rainbow of purples, pinks, yellows, and oranges. It’s downright magical. 

I watched it on my own, because Dante looked so beautiful asleep, I couldn’t bear to wake him. I’d kept him up most of the night, anyway, so it seemed unfair not to let him sleep. But my body clock was tuned into my 5:30 run, so I woke up just in time to witness the sunrise. 

I decided not to go down to the beach because I didn’t want to chance Dante waking up and not knowing where I was. Once, while we were in New York, I’d run out to get bagels while he was sleeping, and he’d seemed a little distressed to find out I’d left the room without him (though he was quite delighted to have a bagel in bed). But the last thing I wanted to do was worry him, and anyway our balcony had an incredible view.

So I sat out there and watched the sky glide through the full spectrum as the water went from black to gray to brilliant cobalt. Everything was quiet except for the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, and the occasional cry of a seagull. I glanced back inside every so often just to see Dante tangled up in the cream-colored sheets. They were bunched around his waist; one long leg was peeking out, and his arms were thrown above his head. His hair was a disaster and his face was angelic. He was every bit as beautiful as the sunrise over the ocean. More, even. 

Yes, more. Because the sunrise was a gift that everyone got if they just bothered to notice it. Dante was a gift only for me. 

It blew my mind. Honestly, having the most incredible guy in the universe in love with you is a total head-trip. And the miracle of it was so far on the opposite end of the spectrum of how I’d existed for so long, well. Sometimes it was jarring. I mean, sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was just comfortable, like sinking into a hot bath after a long day, or crawling into a warm bed when it’s cold outside. Sometimes it felt like the most normal - the most  _ inevitable _ \- thing in the world. But sometimes it was completely surreal. Now was one of those times.

I took one last look at the sky, which now looked golden, and the sea, which now looked fathomless, and then I went back inside and crawled back into bed. I slipped between the sheets and curled myself around him, and he immediately flopped over so that he was half on top of me. Drowsily he mumbled one word: “love.” 

“Well said,” I whispered, and then I let sleep reclaim me, too. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am giving myself cavities writing this thing, so I can only say thank you to those of you along for the ride who are surely getting cavities as well.


	23. the eternal complexity of emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes anxiety re-emerges when you least expect it. (Hurt/comfort) For Dani_saéz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote this chapter for my friend Dani_saéz. I tried to keep it as close to your request as i could, my dear! A few minor details had to be changed to make it fit here, but hopefully it's still fulfilling. 
> 
> Anyway, in so doing, I discovered that I really love writing for requests. So if any of you readers have ideas you want to see come to life in this fic (or as a chapter of Rain), don't be shy! LMK in the comments or HMU on Tumblr.

ARI

When we wake up, it’s around 10 AM. We both want to get to the beach, but Dante has the good sense to suggest we run to the grocery first. That way we won’t have to come in for lunch. We can stay out there all day, if we want. 

So we go to the store and get picnic food: stuff for sandwiches, and chips, and fruit, and bottles of Gatorade. Then we go down to the beach. There are these huge umbrellas and lounge chairs you can rent for the day, so I rent us a set and start to spread our towels on the chairs. Dante grabs my hand and pulls me towards the sea. 

“Eager, huh?” I ask him, laughing, but I run along with him, straight into the surf. The water is cold, but not as cold as I expected for April. It’s refreshing. He’s screaming, and I’m screaming, and then we start splashing each other like children. It’s glorious. We invent a game where we dive into the waves just as they’re crashing, and then another where I hold him in a fireman’s carry and lift him over the waves just as they crash. Sometimes the waves are too high and we both get pulled under. At one point, a couple of kids decide to emulate what we’re doing, and watching the brother try to hold his little sister up above the waves is adorable. 

Once we’re both exhausted and out of breath, we swim out until our heads are just above the water and just kind of hang out, kicking around. That far out, there aren’t really any waves. We’re probably too far out--my dad had warned us about the undertow, and Dante’s dad had, too--but it doesn’t feel unsafe. Quite the opposite. We hold onto each other’s shoulders, uncaring of whether the families on the beach are judging. And we gaze around at the beauty, and let the water lap at our skin and the sun beat into our faces. And we talk, and laugh, and just do what we do best - be together.

It’s not until late afternoon that we decide to go in and figure out dinner. Once we get in the room and get all dried off, we both discover we’re absolutely exhausted. We fall into our bed, right on top of the bedspread, our legs entwined and our hands on each other and our faces nose-to-nose, and we take a little siesta. 

When we awaken, the sun is just starting to set. We get dressed and head out. 

  


DANTE

The “strip” is a several-block stretch of the road that runs parallel to the beach, lined by shops and bars and cafes that seem to be trying to outdo each other with gaudiness. Neon lights are everywhere, music blasts from within each one (all the doors are propped open), and there are people everywhere. I’m loving it. 

I think Ari is, too. He’s got this big grin on his face that I’m not 100% sure he’s aware of, and a sense of awe in his wide brown eyes. Even though there are enough sights and smells and sounds we couldn’t possibly take them all in, I still can’t keep my eyes off of  _ him. _ Finally, in his gazing around, he meets my eye and suddenly looks embarrassed. “What?” he asks. 

“You,” I say, slipping my hand into his just long enough to give it a squeeze. We’re not holding hands because...well, I guess neither of us want to risk trouble. Not on our trip. Not here.

I mean, this place isn’t Chelsea.

But he squeezes back and gives me a sweet smile. 

“I just can’t believe you’re enjoying this. Seems like it would be too many people for your taste,” I explain. He laughs.

“Oh, it is. Believe me. But...it’s really entertaining, too. I will need some decompression time soon, though.” 

Every so often there is a break between buildings and you can catch a glimpse of the ocean, so dark it’s barely visible except for the brilliant white reflection of the moon, moonrays rippling as the waves crash. 

“You want to go down there for a bit?” I ask, nodding towards it when we come to one such opening. He looks down to the beach, then back at me with a wicked grin.

“I do.” 

Once we step past all the buildings, the darkness engulfs us. There are no lights here, only the moon. He slips his hand in mine and all of a sudden my heart swells to bursting. I’ve gotten so used to touching him. I always love it, every single time - I swear I’ll never take it for granted - but for some reason, right then, him weaving his fingers through mine just reminds me of how long I’d longed for just that. How I would lie awake at night sometimes, imagining him reaching for my hand. How I had come to believe it would never happen. 

I let the moment overtake me with all its flooding emotion, because I’ve found that doing that is the secret to feeling completely alive. 

We get down close to where the water glides onto the sand and sit down just beyond its boundaries. I’m not sure about the tide - is it going in or out now? We may need to scoot back in a few minutes. I don’t have time to wonder for long, though, because as soon as we’re fully seated Ari pulls me into a kiss that completely wipes away all consciousness of anything but his mouth and his tongue and his stubble against my face. I pull him closer, my hands sliding to his waist, then his back, feeling the solid wall of muscle that seems to be all he’s made of. But I know better. I know how gentle he is. How sensitive. 

How appropriate, some part of my brain is thinking (the part that rarely shuts up), that he would become such a fitness fanatic and make his body into a fortress to match the one on the inside. 

Except not for me. Somehow I’m the one who broke down his walls, who deconstructed his emotional fortress, or at least found a chink in it somewhere and was able to sneak in. Or maybe he made the chink for me - maybe he opened up a door-shaped space, just for me. And then, together, we’ve been slowly disassembling the walls. 

That feels more accurate. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, pulling away just enough to get the words out. I huff out a laugh.

“How did you know I was thinking?”

He rubs his nose against mine for just a second. “I know you, Dante. I know how you kiss when you’re lost in thought.” He slides one hand up my thigh. “And I know how you kiss when you’re not.” He kisses me on my neck, right beneath my ear, making me gasp and squirm. “You’re thinking,” he breathes against my skin. He squeezes my thigh as his other hand slides up my shirt, across my chest (so slowly), up onto my collarbone so that his fingers are poking out the neckline and my stomach is exposed. My breath is coming in ragged gasps. 

“I don’t remember,” I murmur, because it’s true, and then I kiss him again. 

He kisses me back and pushes me, gently, down into the sand. He angles his body so that he’s mostly on top of me, and I can feel his erection through his jean shorts, I can feel the heat of him seeping into me and counteracting the coldness of the sand. His hands seem to be everywhere, all over my body, and I groan into his mouth and pull his hips tighter against me just as…

“Fuck,” he says, scrambling up and pulling me with him in such a rapid, smooth movement I don’t even know what’s happening until we’re both on our feet. 

Our  _ wet  _ feet. 

So the tide’s still coming in, I guess. 

Then we’re both doubled over in laughter, in  _ our _ laughter, the kind I think neither of us has ever shared with another living being except each other. 

“Wanna go back to the room?” I ask as I pick my shoes up by the shoelaces. I hadn’t even realized I’d toed them off; it’s such a habit. They’re wet with sea water. I hold onto his shoulder so I can pull off my socks and stuff them inside. 

“I do,” he says for the second time tonight, his voice husky. He slides one hand around the back of my neck, his fingers tugging gently on my hair, and wraps one strong arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him to kiss me again. I’m reminded of that night in the desert, the night he told me he’d lied, because he’d used a very similar move when I told him to kiss me. It’s the most incredible feeling in the world, his hand holding my neck and his arm wrapping around me like a blanket and his body melding to mine. It’s like he’s completely taken me over. Like he’s in control. It blew my mind that night (partly because I was usually sort of in the control position, until that moment, and partly because it was better than every fantasy I’d ever had), and it blows my mind now. 

Then he pulls away, and kisses my nose, and loops his arm around my waist, and we start walking. 

“Don’t you want to take your shoes off?” I ask. Mine are swinging at my side, bumping against my legs. He hesitates for just a second, then shrugs. In the moonlight, his teeth gleam white as he smiles. 

“Yeah. I guess I do.” 

And then he holds onto my shoulder as he toes off his shoes, and pulls off his socks and shoves them down inside, and then we walk barefoot in the moonlight, arms around one another. We’re just close enough to the tideline that every so often the chilly water washes over our feet. He lays his head against my shoulder, and we walk slowly in the direction of our hotel feeling like the only two people in the world. 

That is, until we come upon the house party. 

  


We were walking along a stretch of beach that had beach houses - our hotel was still probably a mile or so away. We had decided not to drive to dinner because it was just so beautiful out, with the sun starting to sink in the sky and the ocean stretched out endlessly beyond us. It had made for a lovely walk at twilight, and it was making for a lovely walk now. The sounds from the strip had long since faded, and Ari and I were just walking along in a comfortable silence, staring at the reflection of the moon on the water. The only sound for a while had been the crashing of the waves, which is probably why we heard the noise from the party a few minutes before we got to it.

The house was huge, up on stilts like so many of them were, with a two-level deck that was strung with white Christmas lights. The music was blasting from speakers on the deck, we realized - it must have been some sound system. There were teenagers everywhere: on both levels of deck, in the sandpile underneath the house, on the strip of beach right in front of it. Girls were running around in bikini tops and cut-offs, squealing and giggling. Guys were standing around in swimsuits and t-shirts, and everyone had a red solo cup in their hand. 

Part of me wanted to go check it out, of course, but I decided not to mention it to Ari. It was probably the last thing he’d want to do, and anyway, I was looking extremely forward to getting him back to the hotel and the king-sized bed inside. But then, just like that night in New York, when I’d wished we could go to the dance club and he’d surprised me by suggesting it, Ari nudged me. “You want to stop by?” he asked.

I looked at him. His eyes were shining in the moonlight, and he looked so beautiful it took my breath away. “Do  _ you _ want to?” 

He laughed. “Not particularly,” he admitted. “But you do. Don’t you?” 

I shrugged. “Sort of. But we don’t have to. I’m happy to go on back to the hotel…”

He rolled his eyes. “We will, Dante. But why don’t we see what a beach party on spring break looks like?” He nudged me again. “Just, you know. For science.” 

That made me laugh. “Okay, then,” I said, and I could feel how big my smile was. I knew he was suggesting going to make me happy, and he knew I  _ hadn’t  _ suggested going to make  _ him  _ happy. We really were kind of a disgustingly sweet couple, I thought, buzzing with joy. 

We walked away from the water and up towards the house, arms around each other. It felt reckless - what if the party was a bunch of homophobic frat boys? - but I guess we were both still intoxicated with love for each other after rolling around in the sand, and couldn’t bear to let go. We dropped our sneakers on a dune near the house, grinned at each other, and kept on going.

Fortunately, when we approached the kids on the beach, a couple of the boys lifted their beers to us in salute, and a couple of the girls flashed us bright smiles, so it seemed all was well. There was a straight couple making out on the stairway - we literally had to step around them, forcing Ari and I apart - so it wasn’t like it was a “gay party” or something. But maybe everyone here was just open minded. Stranger things had happened. 

We climbed the stairs to the first level and looked around. It was almost like being on the strip again, except everyone seemed in our age range, and the music was much louder. The pungent scent of pot was drifting through the french doors that were thrown wide open. I peeked in and saw a table full of liquor and mixers and red solo cups. And a keg. A girl caught my eye and winked. I grinned at her. 

“You want to go get a drink?” I asked Ari. I had to lean close to him to be heard over all the noise and music, but I kept watching all the people inside. Some were dancing, some were just talking. A couple was making out on the couch. 

When Ari didn’t answer, I looked at him. He looked incredibly uncomfortable. “Hey, let’s go,” I said immediately. He shook his head. 

“Nah, not yet. Let’s hang out. I just need a minute to get acclimated.”

I studied him. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“What you think I want, instead of what you want.” 

He smiled at me and it was so tender, it kind of broke my heart.

“I know, Dante. I want to. I want to get better at this.” I kept studying him, trying to decide if I should just insist that we leave. He leaned close to me. “It’s a spring break party at the beach, and we’re 17. And I’m with you.” He nudged me. “I’m good. Go get us drinks. I’m going to go find a corner and people-watch.”

I grinned, and he grinned, and then I headed into the house. 

The pot smoke was so thick it was almost syrupy. I felt like I was going to get high just from being in the room. I went over to the drink table, intending to just get us beers, but then I changed my mind. When would we have the chance to make cocktails again anytime soon? I eyed the various liquors and mixers, trying to remember which liquors typically went with which mixers. I’d been to a few parties in Chicago, but I hadn’t been wild about liquor then, and hadn’t tried much. It made my head too fuzzy too fast. It would be different to drink liquor with Ari, I thought. With Ari, I felt...grounded.

“Having trouble?” a deep voice said, so close to my shoulder that I jumped. I turned around and there was a very tall guy with reddish brown hair and huge green eyes and a wide smile. He looked a little older than me - I’d guess 19 or 20. 

“I want to try something I’ve never had,” I said. “But I’m not super experienced. Not sure where to start.”

“Well it’s your lucky day, because I’m a bartender” he replied, and he winked. It was such an obvious lie it made me laugh, which made his smile grow impossibly wider. 

He leaned a little closer to me and for a second I almost backed right into the table, but then he reached around my right side to pick up a bottle of rum, and around my left to get a 2-liter of Coke. 

“I’m Brandon, by the way,” he said. “Rum and Coke is my personal favorite.”

“Strike one,” I said. “Had that before. I’m Dante, by the way.” I almost stuck my hand out to shake, but realized at the last second that would be weird since he had bottles in both of his. 

He reached around me again. I stepped to the side so I wouldn’t be in his way. He put the bottles back on the table and held up two more bottles: tequila and ruby red grapefruit juice. I shook my head. 

“Don’t like grapefruit,” I said. He sighed dramatically. 

“High-maintenance, aren’t you?” he asked, and I laughed. He then held up vodka. “This,” he announced dramatically, “pairs well with everything.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” I said, and he busted out laughing. 

“Where are you from, anyway?” Brandon asked, pouring some cranberry juice into a cup and adding a splash of vodka. “And try this.”

I took the cup from him. “El Paso,” I said, and drank it down in one go. It was fantastic. “And  _ that _ I like.” I reached for the cranberry juice to make another, but he put his hand on my arm.

“Now, now. Let me get it. Bartender, remember?” Brandon winked again and took my cup from me. “El Paso, huh? I’ve never been. I’m actually from Florida.”

“Why on earth would you come to spring break in Texas when you’re from Florida?” I asked, reaching for another solo cup to pour Ari a drink. 

And just like that, Ari was there. I think I kind of squeaked in delight, but he didn’t react like he usually did when I made that sound. (Usually he says, “I love your voice, Dante,” and kisses me senseless. It’s my little secret that I do it on purpose sometimes, just for his reaction.) 

“You came inside!” I cried. “Did you get properly acclimated?”

He was staring at Brandon, but then he looked at me and smiled. “Somewhat,” he said. He seemed a little stressed, so I knew he wasn’t actually comfortable. 

“This is Brandon,” I said, gesturing to him. “He’s helping me figure out what’s good. Brandon, this is my fiancé, Ari.” I looked back to Ari. “You like cranberry juice, right?”

“We can figure this out from here,” Ari said to Brandon, and turned his back on him. “It really doesn’t matter. Yeah, I like cranberry juice.” He smiled at me, but it wasn’t his usual beam. I furrowed my brow. I got the sense that he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hey,” I said, leaning close to him so I could speak into his ear. “Why don’t you go back out? I’ll meet you out there in just a minute.” 

Ari stared at me for a minute, and I couldn’t understand the look in his eyes. He looked...hurt. Then, without a word, he turned around and walked away. 

“Friendly fella,” Brandon said, and I felt a tendril of defensiveness rise up inside of me. 

“He doesn’t like crowds.” My voice was a little sharper than I’d meant it to be. 

“Hey, no judgement,” Brandon said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. Then he took a step closer. “To answer your question, spring break in Florida is completely overrated. Wanted some new scenery.” 

“Understandable,” I said, but I was a little distracted, wondering what was up with Ari. I started thinking maybe we should just leave. The fun in choosing from an open bar had fizzled. “Listen, I’m going to go. Thanks for your help.”

  


ARI

There was a pier a little ways down from the party house. It creaked when I walked on it. The wood felt cool against my bare feet. It seemed to go on forever, but I kept going, all the way to the end. It took me several minutes to get there, that’s how long it was. I sat down behind the wooden railing and let my feet hang over the edge. I looked into the black water, wondering how far down it went.

I was overreacting. I knew that, in my heart. But my brain was on loop, playing the scene again and again: that tall, good-looking guy leaning into Dante, putting his hand on his arm, talking to him with sparkling eyes, and Dante just laughing and responding like he liked it. It was so obvious what was going on. So obvious that the guy -  _ Brandon _ \- was flirting. Why had Dante been flirting back?

I tried to tell myself I was being stupid. I knew Dante was such a warm person, he seemed like he was flirting with everyone. Hell, he seemed like he was flirting when he talked to our parents! And I knew he loved me. I knew it as well as I knew that the sun would come up in the morning, turning the sky a million shades of pink and orange and yellow, just like it had this morning. Dante hadn’t been there for that. I’d watched the sunrise alone. Suddenly, that seemed incredibly meaningful. 

My stomach was in knots. The fear from earlier - much earlier, like before I drank a beer with my parents earlier - came crashing back into me. It made no sense, because that fear had been mixed up with my confusion about Bernardo, and my distrust of my parents’ love, and a million other things. It hadn’t  _ all  _ been about opening my heart to Dante and how incredibly vulnerable that would make me. 

Some of it had been, though. And I guess that’s why it all came back - it was all swirled together, just one big wave of dread, and it sank into my body like a ghost, making me shudder. I realized I was crying.

“There you are,” Dante’s voice came from behind me. He sounded so relieved, it almost made me feel better. I didn’t turn around, though. I wasn’t ready to face my own - what? My own weakness? Because suddenly that’s what it felt like it was. I had been so afraid of being vulnerable, but it suddenly seemed like the fear itself was what made me vulnerable - not the risk. 

It was confusing.

“I couldn’t find you! I went up and down the beach. I almost went back to the hotel to see if you’d gone there. Jesus, Ari, why did you leave without telling me?”

  


DANTE

My relief at finding Ari made me weak in the knees. And a little irritated. I wasn’t sure what was going on. It crossed my mind that Ari had a problem with me talking to Brandon, but I didn’t want to believe that. It reminded me of how angry he’d been about Daniel and me. Though this was admittedly different; I wasn’t trying to date this Brandon guy. But that made the thought all the more crazy!

And anyway, Ari knew what he meant to me. Didn’t he?

It must have been the party. He must have gotten overwhelmed. Too many people in too short a time. But why the hell did he leave me?

I collapsed beside him. I set the vodka bottle down - when I’d told Brandon I was going to leave, he had protested, putting his hand on my arm again. I’m a big fan of casual touching - I wish it was more of a norm in the world, to be honest. I think society would be much healthier if we all touched each other and hugged each other and kissed each other more - but right then, it annoyed me. I guess I didn’t like anyone trying to keep me from Ari, no matter what the circumstances. 

Anyway, that annoyance might have sparked my sudden decision to take the whole bottle of vodka. Fuck the cranberry. It would be fun to take shots with Ari. Right then, I’d envisioned drunken making out on the beach, but there was such a sense of foreboding in my gut, the fantasy hadn’t ever really taken shape. 

“Why did you leave?” I asked again, because Ari still hadn’t answered me, or even looked at me. I put my hand on the small of his back. I could feel how tense he was, and my irritation faded. “Ari? What’s up?”

He looked over at me then, and I was shocked to see tear tracks on his cheeks, shining in the moonlight. 

“You just...seemed like....” He sighed. “Like you were enjoying talking to... _ Brandon.” _ The way he said his name, like it was poison on his tongue, made me know my first thought had been right, however crazy it seemed. 

“I  _ was,” _ I said, and Ari looked like I’d hit him. “I like meeting new people, Ari. You know that. But babe.” I took my face in his hands. “You can’t possibly think I’d ever look anywhere but right here.” 

Ari didn’t answer, which made my stomach churn. “Ari, did you think I asked you to go outside so I could keep talking to that guy? Sweetheart, I thought you were overwhelmed by the crowd.” Ari was searching my face with his wide, dark eyes, so I held his gaze and tried to let all my love for him show in my own. 

“I know it’s stupid,” he finally whispered. He didn’t sound like he knew it was stupid at all. He sounded like he was just saying what he was supposed to say. It broke my heart. “I know you love me, Dante,” he sighed, and that sounded a little more confident. “But...I guess…” He swallowed. I pressed my forehead to his. 

“I get it,” I whispered back. He pulled away from me.

“How could you get it, Dante?” he demanded, suddenly sounding mad. “I’m not like you! You’re not like me.” He sounded miserable. I stared at him, momentarily speechless. 

“I get it because I  _ know _ you,” I finally said, my voice even. “Up until recently, you thought you were alone in the world. You thought no one would ever understand you, or love you for who you are. 16 years is a long time to carry that weight, Ari.” In the moonlight I could see his eyes soften. “You do realize I tried to fall out of love with you, don’t you? For over a year, I actively tried to shut it down. I kissed girls. I kissed boys. I tried…” I quit talking then, because my voice broke. Ari reached for my hands, like he suddenly couldn’t stand to not be touching me, and I was glad because I felt the same way. “If I can’t fall out of love with you when I’m trying to, Ari...if I can’t find someone to replace you when that’s my  _ whole goal _ ...” I shook my head. “It’s not gonna happen.” I looked in his eyes and shook my head again. “Never.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and this time he was the one to put his forehead against mine. “It’s just...you brought me out of my shell, you know?  _ You  _ did. You’re so beautiful and smart and warm and kind, and I’m…” He let his voice trail off, shaking his head. “And this is so much to lose. I couldn’t bear it if...” 

I smiled and tilted my face forward just enough to interrupt him with a kiss. “Don’t even say it. Of all the paths we might end up walking, that’s not one of them.”

He smiled back. A single leftover tear shown in the corner of his eye. I kissed it, tasted its salt. 

“I love you,” I whispered. “I’ve always loved you, exactly as you are. I loved you when you were surly and miserable. I loved you when you scowled at me in the pool that day, when we first met.”   
  
“What are you talking about?” he asked, sounding a little playful. It made my heart a million times lighter to hear it.

“When I told you I could teach you how to swim. You gave me such a death-glare.” 

He laughed. “I did not.”

“Oh, you did, my love. You absolutely did.” We laughed together. “But my heart was already yours.”

“Love at first sight, was it?” he asked, smiling. 

“It was more like I’d finally found home.” 

We held each other’s gaze for a minute. The current between us seemed like a solid thing, like I could touch it if I tried. “Don’t ever try to fall out of love with me again, okay?” he whispered. 

I squeezed his hands. “I swear.” 

His mouth quirked up in a sheepish grin. He let go of one hand to cradle my face. “Sorry I ruined the party.”

“Shame, that. Whatever will we report to science?” I booped his nose. He laughed. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“I took a bottle of vodka.” I reached behind me and pulled it into view. “And this,” I said, reaching into my back pocket. The joint was a little rumpled, but it was still smokeable. I had seen a whole line of them on the coffee table on my way out to find Ari, and, feeling nervous and reckless, had grabbed one.

“You little thief!” Ari laughed.

“It wasn’t thieving, Ari. They’re party favors.” I pulled the lighter out of my pocket.

“Well where did you get a lighter?” he asked, still laughing. 

“Oh, this? As soon as you left, I knew something was up, so I grabbed the bottle and the joint and started after you. Then I realized I needed a lighter, so.” I shrugged, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “I went back to Brandon and asked if he had one.” 

Ari started at me, open-mouthed. “You did not.”

“I did.”

He shook his head incredulously. “For an angel, you’re incredibly devious, Dante.”

  


So we sat on that rickety pier and passed the joint back and forth, and passed the bottle back and forth, and the pier creaked beneath us, and the dark sea was all around us, and the moon moved across the sky. We stretched out on our backs and talked, and laughed, and looked up at the stars. They weren’t as bright as they were in the desert, but some were still visible. They were like old friends.

“We’ve gazed at the stars so much, it’s like they’re old friends,” Ari said. His words were only slightly slurred, and my mind was only slightly fuzzy. We had been careful not to take more than a couple of shots each, primarily because we needed to make it back to our hotel room at some point.

I turned my head to look at him. “How do you do that?” I asked.

He turned his head to look at me, too. “Do what?”

“Read my mind.” 

His response was to roll over on top of me. He held himself up on his elbows, which were on either side of my head. Very slowly he lowered his face to my neck. I thought he was going to kiss it, but then he just breathed, as though he were drinking in my scent. When he exhaled I broke out in chillbumps. 

“Ari?” I murmured. He lifted his face to look into mine. “Kiss me.”

He did. And as I kissed him back, the passion from earlier on the beach reignited. Our hands started roaming, and then his mouth started roaming. It was almost like picking up where we’d left off. Which made me think of…

“Our shoes.”

He lifted his head from my belly. He’d pushed up my shirt to press kisses along my ribs, and was halfway through undoing my fly. “What?” he asked.

I laughed. “Our shoes! I thought to bring drugs and liquor, but I forgot about our shoes. They’re still on the dune.”

_ “Dante,”  _ Ari groaned. “I’m about 30 seconds away from doing very illicit things to you on a random pier in broad…” He looked at the sky as if to check whether the sun had risen yet. “...Moonlight,” he finished, and I dissolved into laughter. “And you’re thinking about  _ shoes?”  _ He shook his head. “Your obsession goes much further than I realized.”

I started laughing so hard it made my stomach muscles ache, and he sat back on his heels and watched me, a huge grin on his face, and then he finally broke and started laughing, too. 

As our laughter started to taper off, he put his hand on my bare stomach. He stroked it, which felt indescribably good, and then he traced around my belly button with his fingertip, making my whole body shudder. “I’m so glad you’re my best friend,” he murmured. 

My heart was melting as he lowered his head and put his lips back on my skin. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was what you were hoping for, Dani. Thank you for being a loyal reader, and always so full of ideas ❤ 
> 
> Regarding: “He slides one hand around the back of my neck, his fingers tugging gently on my hair, and wraps one strong arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him to kiss me again. I’m reminded of that night in the desert, the night he told me he’d lied, because he’d used a very similar move when I told him to kiss me. It’s the most incredible feeling in the world, his hand holding my neck and his arm wrapping around me like a blanket and his body melding to mine. It’s like he’s completely taken me over. Like he’s in control.”  
> -Whenever I picture this final scene from the book, it’s much sexier than the way Ari reports it. When you think about it, Ari is a very stoic storyteller in canon. Which makes sense, because he’s been a very stoic guy all his life. But when it says “I placed my hand on the back of his neck. I pulled him toward me. And I kissed him” - it kills me. Because I imagine him actually doing those actions, and they’re incredibly smooth and intimate and carried out with no hesitation. Anyway, I think Dante would have a different way of describing that moment, which I tried to capture here :)


	24. another party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go to an end-of-school party with some guys Dante knows from school. Some shit goes down. 
> 
> TW: Violence, unwanted sexual advances/nonconsensual touching (mild), bullying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first of all, I have to say a huge THANK YOU to [yucatanmafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatanmafia/pseuds/yucatanmafia). He's like the world's best cheerleader, idea-bouncer, and advice-giver, all in one. (Plus he's super fun to talk to! :)) I was a bit stuck (AGAIN), and he not only talked through my initial ideas about this chapter (and answered weird random questions), but once it was written, he talked through my concerns about it, offered ideas that I used, and read through a portion I was really nervous about. He also checks in on how my writing is going every day which, let me just say, is super helpful for motivation. (We fans should all do this for each other more often I think!) He's like single-handedly keeping this fic going at this point, so I'm dedicating/gifting it to him. ALSO...he's a writer, too, and just recently posted his first Ari/Dante fic [which can be found here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672965) I freaking love it (it literally made me cry) so if you want more quality Ari/Dante content, head over and check it out. And if you happen to be an ODAAT fan, check out the masterpiece he's co-authoring with his best friend [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726963/chapters/54309040)
> 
> Second of all: This chapter diverges from my MO. Except for that one ficlet in [Rain,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20476370/chapters/48586973) I've only written happy times for these boys. When there is angst, it's been romantic angst that's quickly resolved. But I think part of why I keep getting writer's block for this fic is because it's just _too_ happy. The boys have a canon history of having conflict, and anyway, what healthy relationship doesn't have conflict? So, um, consider yourself warned. 
> 
> The next chapter is finished and will be posted tomorrow.
> 
> One last thing: I'm going to post the songs here, instead of at the end, because it just feels weird to post them at the end this time.  
> [Just Like Heaven](https://youtu.be/1ASpBpT8bRQ) (released in 1987 and one of my all-time faves)  
> [Jump Around](https://youtu.be/MdxCfAb-ROM) (released in May, 1989, so it was brand new here. And don't listen to Ari because it's a bop)  
> [It Takes Two](https://youtu.be/_Cl1zPCEMCA) (released in 1988)

ARI

Dante had better know how much I love him, because this party is the literal worst. I have officially remembered why I can’t stand Cathedral boys. Turns out Dante is, most definitely, the singular exception to the Cathedral-boys-are-assholes rule.

It’s actually a little surreal to see him in this context. Smiling and laughing with assholes. I mean, I’ve seen him before and after school, when I’ve dropped him off and picked him up. Sometimes he has a friend or two walking with him, but I’ve never met any of them. They either wait for him on the steps in the morning or head off in a different direction before he gets to my truck in the afternoon. 

“Do your friends here know you’re gay?” I’d asked him a couple of weeks ago, after watching his buddy veer off in a different direction as Dante approached my truck. 

“Of course,” he’d said, and then leaned over to kiss me. “Hey, by the way.” 

His beautiful smile had distracted me for a minute, as it often does, so it wasn’t until we were pulling out of the parking lot that I asked, “They’re all cool with it?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shrug. 

“The ones who aren’t aren’t my friends,” he said, simply.

I suddenly got to wondering a little more about his school life. School had never really been something we talked about much, unless I had some story about Gina or Susie that happened to take place at school. We’d proofread each other’s assignments and get help from my mom with our math (we both agree math is evil), and of course I went to his swim meets, but otherwise school just wasn’t a thing we talked much about. I guess I always assumed it was because school is perfunctory and boring and basically a prison. And it’s not like he has ever once hung out with a school friend, or received a phone call from a school friend while I was over or anything, so it didn’t really occur to me to wonder. And suddenly I felt like a terrible boyfriend because of that.

“Tell me about your school friends,” I’d said.

Dante looked at me quizzically. I guess he was noticing this was the first time I’d ever asked him anything like this, too. 

“To be honest, Ari, they’re ‘friends’ in the sense of the word that all my friends were before you. They’re people to hang out with when circumstance throws us together. We horse around, but it’s not like we have deep conversations or anything.” He shrugged and took a Three Musketeers out of his backpack. He opened it up and took a bite and held it out to me. Without really thinking, I took it and took a bite and handed it back. 

“When did you tell them you were gay?” I asked after a minute.

He rested his head on my shoulder. I could feel his jaw working as he chewed. When he swallowed the bite, he said, “I guess when the school year started? I mean, last year I was in Chicago, and the year before that I had never told anyone. You were the first, you know.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I know.” I gave his leg a squeeze. “But how did you tell them?” What I really wanted to ask was how they had reacted. I was worried that he’d had to put up with some bullshit and I hadn’t even known. He would have told me, I said to myself, but a little voice whispered, “you sure?” I mean, he knew me well. He knew I’d probably get an itch in my punching hand if he told me anyone was mean to him. 

He shrugged again. “I mean it’s not like I made a grand announcement. I think a few people knew when the school year started because of what had happened.” He didn’t have to say he was talking about the assault. “I don’t know how they found out. Actually,” he paused. “I think I do know. This one kid, Aidan. His dad’s a police officer.” Dante considered a minute. “Damn, I never put two and two together. But it was Aidan’s friends who accosted me with questions when the school year started. They’re the ones I’m not friends with anymore,” he added meaningfully. Sure enough, I felt a little worm of aggression kick to life in my stomach. I ignored it.

“One of the cops told his kid? How sick is that?” I asked, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. 

Dante shrugged like it was no big deal. Or, maybe more accurately, like there was nothing we could do about it. “Does that really surprise you, Ari?” His voice sounded sad, so I wrapped my arm around him. 

“Tell me about the others, then. The ones who  _ are _ your friends.”

I could see him smile out of the corner of my eye. “They’re fine. I mean, it’s not like they hound me with questions about our sex life or anything. Unlike what  _ you  _ deal with at school.” I looked at him, smirking, and he winked. Then we both burst into laughter. He was talking about Gina and Susie, of course. 

Since Gina had declared her love for me, and Susie had declared her love for Gina, and then  _ that  _ particular storm blew over and both girls had started dating other people, they had backed way off of asking me about my sex life with Dante. It was still a sort of running joke, though, mostly because those girls have always thought it was hilarious to see me blush. They’ll still be trying to make me blush in the old folks home, I guarantee it. 

“But they know about me?” I asked, after a comfortable silence.

“Of course!” Dante cried in that squeaky voice I love. “I told you I was going to tell everyone you’re my boyfriend, and I did. I do.”

“Why don’t any of them ever come introduce themselves, then?” 

Dante leaned away from me enough that he could give me a good head-to-toe look, like he had to make sure I was the real Ari and not some imposter. “You  _ want  _ them to?” He laughed. “Ari, I told them not to. I didn’t think you’d want that.” 

I grinned then. “Well, I don’t, so thanks.” That made him laugh really hard. “Seriously, though, Dante. They  _ can. _ I mean, I’m curious about the parts of your world that don’t include me.” 

He beamed at me, then put his head back on my shoulder. “Every part of my world includes you. There’s not a minute that goes by that you’re not on my mind. Everything that happens, I’m thinking, what would Ari think of this? What would it be like if Ari was here right now?”

I kissed the top of his head. “I know the feeling,” I murmured. 

“But...if you really want to get a glimpse of my life with the boys from school…” His voice trailed off, and I could feel him staring up at me from under his lashes. We had just pulled into his driveway, so I turned a little in my seat so that he lifted his head and looked at me with dancing eyes. 

“What, Dante?”

“There’s an end-of-year party Friday after next. If you want to go.”

“If I don’t want to go, will you go without me?”

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would much rather be with you, wherever we are. Even if we’re just sitting at home.”

That kind of caught me off guard, and I felt my stomach flip over. I smiled at him for a second, just dazzled by how this beautiful creature could be so in love with me.

“But Dante, that’s not healthy,” I said, trying hard to stop my smile and still unable to. I  _ didn’t _ think it was healthy, but I sure did love that he’d said it. “You can’t let me hold you back from doing what you want and making friends and all that.”

He laughed. “First of all, I knew exactly what I was signing up for, so don’t even go there. Second of all, it’s because of you that I actually  _ have _ real friends. The boys from school aren’t real friends, but Susie, and Gina, and even Sara are.”

“Not Tone?” I teased. He narrowed his eyes.

“Tone scares me.”

That made me bust out laughing, and then he did, too. “Nah. Tone’s good. He’s just more like the boys from school. I mean, he's not _like_ them, he's totally different, but it's a similar level of connection. I don’t have a ton in common with him, you know?”

“You’re Mexican. He’s Mexican. We get drunk together.”

“Exactly,” Dante said. "It's not nearly enough to classify him as a real friend.”

“I didn’t realize how elitist you were about who you consider a friend.”

“You’re one to talk.” 

That made us both laugh some more. 

“Seriously, Dante, I thought you considered everyone a friend. What about those people we met at Western Playland? Were they real friends?”

Dante grinned. “Jet and Eric and Sara? Absolutely. They were just a different species of friend.”

“Species?” I asked incredulously. This conversation was getting more and more amusing. 

“Hey, don’t look at me, Ari. This whole categorizing of friends is your fault.”

_ “My _ fault?” 

“Yep. Your fault. Until you came along, I thought everyone I was friendly with was a friend. Then suddenly there you were, and I realized I’d never had a real friend before in my life. Because you were the first.” He leaned close to me and put his face in my face. “You’re the original and best, Aristotle Mendoza. You’re the standard by which friendship is measured.” 

I could feel how big I was grinning. He grinned back, and then he kissed me. 

And now, I’m at this party and looking at all these boys who are, in his eyes, a “species of friend.” These boys in their pink polo shirts - and then the occasional ones in plain white t-shirts that I guess are supposed to make them look like they don’t give a fuck, except they failed because the shirts are clearly pressed and bleached and look like they just came out of the package - and their ball caps on backwards. So many backwards ball caps, I never would have believed it possible. 

It’s not that, though. I mean it _ is _ that, their stupid uniforms they’re all pretending aren’t uniforms (to Dante’s eternal credit he’s wearing my Santana t-shirt and his hair, which he’s been letting grow since the school swim team is almost over, is a complete mess), but it’s also the way they act. They remind me of the lifeguards at the pool, to be honest.

Shit. Now that I think of it, they remind me  _ exactly _ of the lifeguards at the pool. 

I’m sitting in an armchair in a corner, petting the dog. It’s a purebred dog from the look of it, a flawless chocolate lab, but she can’t help how perfect she is. She came over to me as soon as I sat down like she knew we’d be kindred spirits, and it’s been me and her ever since. Dante is roaming around laughing and goofing with the future frat boys.

To his credit (again; I guess I’ll always find a way to credit Dante because he deserves it more than any other person in the world), he seems to be the one making most of them laugh. I start to get a picture, as I watch him, of what his role is at Cathedral, and it doesn’t surprise me a bit. He’s the guy who makes everyone laugh, the guy who makes everyone feel welcome and special and smart. The realization gives me a twinge of jealousy, because that’s how he makes  _ me _ feel, but then I remember the two hours we spent in his bed earlier this evening, and the sound of his voice as he whimpered beneath me, and the way he looked with his pupils blown and his mouth open as he gasped, and I feel a smirk on my face. None of these guys get  _ that. _ None of these guys know anything about it. None of these guys know anything about him, really. Not anything important. None of them have listened to him read poetry, or heard him when he gets existential at three in the morning, or held him while he cried. None of them ever met his eyes over the fuzzy, perfect head of his newborn brother and saw how overcome with emotion he was. None of them would have the first idea what the Oreo exchange is. 

He catches my eye, then, and notices my smirk, and he grins knowingly. I’m pretty sure he’s reading my mind. He starts over towards me but right then one of his frat buddies yells “The girls are here!” and all hell breaks loose. I mean, seriously. You’d think we’d been in a drought for months and people had been dying of dehydration right and left and suddenly there was an airdrop of potable water. It’s sheer madness, how the guys start whooping and fistbumping and high-fiving and swarming towards the front door. Dante is stuck in the thick of it, and he catches my eye and he’s laughing, and I’m laughing, and then he lets himself get carried along by the wave and I love him so fucking much I can barely breathe. 

Turns out, “the girls are here” was an understatement. It seems like a couple of chartered buses _ full  _ of girls in disturbingly short cutoffs and crop tops and side-ponytails and bangles descend upon us all at once. I wonder where they all were, getting ready together, and how they managed to arrive at exactly the same moment. I wonder if carloads of girls were just waiting a block away until everyone showed up so they could pull up to the house in one grand sweep. 

At any rate, in the span of about sixty seconds the party goes from this mellow get-together of (not) respectable future frat boys to a complete rager. Liquor seems to appear out of nowhere. The music switches abruptly from “Just Like Heaven” to “Jump Around” (a significant downgrade, in my opinion) and increases in volume by several hundred notches. My corner of the living room suddenly doesn’t feel nearly so private as people crowd in to dance. My chocolate lab friend darts off, her tail between her legs. I have no idea where Dante is. 

  


DANTE

Well, that escalated quickly. 

As soon as the girls arrived, my friends went into party-mode. I hadn’t realized we weren’t in party-mode already. I honestly hadn’t realized this was going to be a party-party. I thought it was going to be a low-key, let’s-reminisce-since-we’ll-never-see-each-other-again with my classmates. 

I’m not opposed to this turn of events. I mean, I don’t care about the girls arriving in the same way my classmates do, but I like the upbeat music and the energy boost. I look over at the dining room table and have to chuckle to myself. Just a few weeks ago, we’d been at that beach party and I’d wondered when Ari and I would have a chance to have cocktails again any time soon. And now here we are. It’s like deja-vu, with all the choices of liquor and mixers. 

I wonder if this is what life will be like, now that we’re graduating. We’ll be off to college in two and a half months. Maybe we’ll get a chance to have mixed drinks on the regular, who knows. I  _ do  _ think I should go find Ari soon, though, because he’s probably ready to go. Which I honestly don’t mind. I think he thinks I mind; I think he thinks I’m this big extrovert, but the truth is I’m truly content to just be with him. I don’t know if I’d feel that way about anyone else, ever, but I feel that way about him. He’s enough. He’s more than enough. 

He would say that’s not healthy. Well, whatever, Ari Mendoza. We’re having one drink, and then I’m taking you home with me. I grin to myself and start pouring two cocktails. 

And that’s when Aidan shows up.

I wasn’t totally honest about Aidan with Ari. I had consciously decided not to tell him about Aidan back in September. Aidan had been a dick. So had all his friends. But it’s nothing I couldn’t handle; I never felt physically threatened, which was what was important to me. And there were plenty of guys who seemed like they couldn’t give less of a shit that I was gay, so I just hung out with them. I felt a little weird some days, when Ari came to pick me up, because I knew I should tell him what had gone on at school. But I knew him. He’d get an itch in his punching hand if he thought anyone was being mean to me, and the last thing I wanted was a repeat of the Julian situation. 

(That’s not entirely true. If I’m being completely honest with myself, the Julian situation was a huge turn-on. I mean, who doesn’t have a fantasy of the hottest guy in the world kicking someone’s ass for them? God, that’s awful. I’m ashamed of myself for even thinking it.)

Anyway. Aidan. I was hoping he wouldn’t be here tonight, but here he is, and from the looks of it, he’s already drunk. At any rate, he’s talking shit.

Why does trouble always start at the liquor table? I make a mental note to tell Ari he has to get our drinks from now on. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Aidan is asking me. He’s already called me “gringo” in a really nasty tone, which makes no fucking sense because he’s the whitest guy I’ve ever met (he’s got strawberry-blond hair and freckles, for God’s sake), and he’s now also calling me a gay slur that does not bear repeating. I do my best to focus on the rum-and-coke I’m pouring for me and the rum-and-fruit-punch I’m pouring for Ari. 

“Did you leave him at home?” Aidan is sneering, leaning into me. I can smell the liquor on his breath. “Is it because you were hoping to fuck me?”

I pull away from him. I wish I could say my heart is going along at a normal rhythm, but that would be a lie. He never made me feel threatened at school, but then he’d never been drunk - or without a teacher right around the corner - at school. I suddenly wonder where my buddy Jake’s parents are. When he invited me to this little get-together I’d just assumed they’d be here. I glance at the liquor table again as if I need confirmation: they’re not.

God, how naive am I? 

The things he’s saying remind me so much of the things the boys said that night, except worse. Those boys jeered at me and called me names; Aidan is jeering, and calling me names, and saying filthy things about what he’s going to do to me when he gets me alone. What I want to do is find Ari, but that’s also the _ last  _ thing I want to do. I can’t be responsible for him getting into a fight. Maybe getting hurt. Maybe getting arrested. I just want this whole situation to dissipate without event. 

Whatever happens, I decide, I’ve got to keep Ari and Aidan from coming to blows. There’s too much at stake, too much risk (Aidan's dad is a cop, for God's sake), and I can deal with a little bullshit. 

I snatch up the sloppily-made drinks to get away from Aidan, but he grabs ahold of my waist with both hands. Ari has put his hands there so many times, and as though I’m in a slow-motion nightmare, I’m struck by how different Aidan’s fingers feel. They’re thinner and longer than Ari’s, and there’s no tenderness in them. They pinch. 

“Let me go, Aidan,” I say softly, trying not to make it obvious that I’m glancing around for someone - anyone- who might recognize what’s going on. For some reason, I don’t see a single familiar face anywhere near the liquor table.

“You know you want it, though, Dante,” he purrs, leaning towards me. This time I will myself not to back away. I won’t let him intimidate me. “You queers want any dick you can get, and I’m the hottest guy in school. It would be a dream come true for you.” To my horror, he starts to slide his hands down until he’s slipped his fingers in my waistband. He gives a little tug. “I won’t tell anybody,” he whispers in my ear. I’m halfway through throwing both drinks on him when I realize it’s completely unnecessary. 

Ari’s here.

  


ARI

I stand in the kitchen where I have a clear view of the dining room and that insanely expensive monstrosity of a dining table full of insanely expensive liquor, watching my boyfriend pouring drinks and looking like he’s humming to himself. Maybe he’s just bopping along to the music (Now it’s “It Takes Two,” which is the most inane song I’ve ever heard, but Dante dancing has me rethinking this opinion). I had been about to go wrangle him and beg him to take me home, but he’s so damn cute I can’t help but stand here and watch. 

So I’m watching when the redhead appears and leans into him, and suddenly I’m flashing back to Brandon at the beach. I feel my fists clench involuntarily, but I remind myself that last time, I freaked out over nothing. I can’t do that again. I can’t have an emotional meltdown every time some guy flirts with Dante. How pathetic is that? Besides, Dante’s drop-dead gorgeous, and charismatic to boot. I can’t exactly blame all the people who want to throw themselves at his feet. 

But I also can’t tear my eyes away. Dante seems like he’s ignoring him, but then the guy takes hold of his waist. Where  _ my _ hands belong. Dante tenses and looks around and for a split second I have this intrusive thought that he’s making sure I’m not around, and that thought triggers a thought that maybe he had been flirting with Brandon after all, and I feel this beast of fear and anger start to rise inside me. But I shut it down.

It’s not like I’m not good at shutting down my emotions, closing off my thoughts. It’s kind of my area of expertise.

Well, okay. So I’m not so good at shutting off my desire to fight. But I have been, lately. I mean, since Dante and I got together. I’ve been so happy, I haven’t had a moment of wanting to fight. The very fact that I wandered away alone when I thought Brandon was seducing him, rather than pouncing, is a testament to how much Dante’s changed me. 

The thing is, I know he doesn’t approve of fighting. It was always a thing with us, from the beginning. He figured out I liked to fight and I figured out he didn’t, and that was okay. I think, in a weird way, we both kind of liked that we were different in this way. I think he liked that I could protect him, and I liked that I could, too. 

But at the end of the day, he’s a pacifist. And an empath. He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. He also overthinks everything. And if I get into a fight, at the very least it will stress him out and cause tension between us. Which I hate.

So instead of charging after this kid who’s now whispering to Dante (and Dante isn’t even pretending to lean away anymore), I just stand there. Choosing to believe that Dante’s telling him to back off. I’m rooted to the spot, fighting every impulse to lunge. Watching. 

And something’s wrong.

This is the thing. I know Dante. I think I actually know him better than I know myself in a lot of ways. (He knows me better than I know myself, too, so it works out.) And something’s weird about his posture. It’s in the way he’s holding his spine, in the way he’s clenching the solo cups he’s picked up. I watch the guy slip his fingers into Dante’s waistband and tug his hips closer, and I’m watching Dante so closely I swear I can see the muscles in his back tense, even under my baggy Santana t-shirt. And that’s all it takes. 

Dante seems like he was ready to take care of himself. What looks to be a coke and a fruit punch - but smells like straight liquor - is all over this piece of trash. (In a detached part of my mind, I’m thrilled that his straight-out-of-the-package white t-shirt is ruined.) He hisses - like, actually hisses - and lunges at Dante, but I’m already on top of him. From beneath me on the floor he screams out a slur, which doesn’t bother me, but then he screams out that he’s going to kill Dante, and that does. So I let him have it.

“ARI! ARI! STOP!” Dante’s voice finally breaks through the blind rage that took over me when I landed my first punch. I do stop, suddenly, and look at my fist, a little dazed. It’s covered in blood. The asshole who had his hands in Dante’s pants is just lying there, motionless. Then, determining in the blink of an eye that he’s no longer a threat (a skill learned from years of practice), I turn slowly to look up at Dante. 

His face is streaked with tears. He looks...horrified. There’s no other word for it. I look around, then, still moving in slow motion, and see what seems to be hundreds of faces of teenagers staring at me, open-mouthed. It’s so deathly quiet in the room, I realize I can hear the sound of a faucet dripping somewhere in the house. 

I don’t know how I do it, but I end up standing. I realize I’m shaking, just like the time I’d kicked Julian’s ass. What is it about fighting for Dante that makes me shake? I never shook before, when I used to fight with the neighborhood kids. I take hold of the table with one hand to stabilize myself. 

“Somebody call 911,” a girl’s voice screams, and then all hell breaks loose. It’s like everyone in the room starts shouting at once. I look back at Dante, and he’s staring at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. I don’t like it.

“Nobody needs to call 911,” a strong voice says, and I recognize Jake, the guy whose house we’re in. Dante had introduced us when we arrived. Jake has elbowed his way to the redhead, who’s still lying on the floor with blood all over his face. He checks the guy’s pulse, and then grabs his face - rather roughly, all things considered - and turns it one way, then another, so that he can examine it closely. 

“You’re fine, dude. Busted lip. Black eye. Maybe a broken nose, but who doesn’t end up with one of those sooner or later?” Jake smiles up at the crowd and pulls the redhead to his feet. The redhead mumbles something to him, and Jake mutters, a little viciously, “You’ve had it coming, Aidan. This is exactly why I told you not to come tonight.” He throws Aidan’s arm around his shoulders and drags him off to the kitchen, grumbling about ice and getting the blood out of the rug before his parents get home. 

“He  _ did  _ have it coming,” someone in the crowd says, and a few people murmur assent. 

“He’s been fucking with Dante all year,” someone else says. My heart skips a beat. He’s been  _ what?  _

Suddenly I’m not sorry at all. 

“Good thing your boyfriend’s a fucking body builder,” someone else calls out, and a chorus of cheers erupts. There are also a few guys glaring at us. I don’t care about any of it. I’m staring at Dante and, even though my hand is starting to throb, I barely notice because of the look on his face. And suddenly I’m terrified that I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally shown this angel what I really am. I’ve finally run him off. Because I’ve never seen this look on his face before, and it’s chilling my blood.

But I’m also pissed. Deeply, deeply pissed. 

“Ari, my man. Ice, for your knuckles.” Jake is back, holding out a ziploc bag full of ice cubes. I stare at it dumbly, then look up into his face. He’s grinning. “That was quite a beat-down, my man. You’ve turned this into the party everyone’s going to be talking about until...well, until we go to college and never see each other again.” He nods at the crowd and they all erupt into cheers and whoops and laughter, and then suddenly the music’s back on (when did it get turned off?) and the party’s back in full swing.

“Is he alright?” I ask, and I don’t even recognize my own voice.

“He’s fine. He’s a big baby is all. He’s a dick, if you want to know the truth. I told him, after the way he heckled Dante all year, that if he ever found himself in the same room as you he’d better run. Asshole never listens.” Jake shakes his head, like it’s a shame that the asshole bleeding in the kitchen didn’t listen to reason (which, I guess, is true), and thrusts the ice at me again. This time I take it, though it still feels like I’m moving through molasses. “No hard feelings, man. I’d do the same thing if a motherfucker was treating my girl that way.” 

And then Jake’s gone, disappearing into the crowd as smoothly as he’d emerged.

“Let’s go,” I say to Dante, my voice just a whisper. I’m not quite able to look at him and I’m not at all sure he’ll go with me, but after a moment that feels like a million years, he nods. 

  


We’re silent on the way home. For the first time in at least nine months, Dante sits in the passenger seat. He stares out the window. My hand is throbbing so badly it’s hard to see straight, but I don’t remark on it or even try to hold the ice bag against it. 

I want to say something, and if I want to say something, I  _ know _ he wants to say something even more. But neither of us do. I don’t think either of us knows  _ what _ to say. The silence in the truck is almost unbearable, and I swear it feels like the drive home lasts forever. 

It’s also way too short, because I feel like these are the last moments I have with him. I don’t know how we’ll get right after this.

I wish I could erase the memory of how his face looked. His beautiful face.

And I wish I could erase the words of his so-called friends. “He  _ did _ have it coming.” “He’s been fucking with Dante all year.” 

The rage boils up inside again. I wish I _ had _ broken Aidan’s nose. And even more, I wish I could know what else Dante hasn't told me. 

When we pull up to his house, I say, “Dante,” and I’m surprised at how steely my voice is. I’d been expecting it to be...gentler.

“Don’t, Ari,” he says. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Are you serious right now? Why didn’t I tell you? Because I knew this would happen!”

“Should I have just stood there, then, and watched you get…” My voice trails off because I don’t even know what to call what Aidan was doing. Flirting? Harassing? Crossing a line? 

Dante sighs heavily. “I don’t know, Ari.” He turns in his seat to look at me. “Look. Thank you, for coming to my rescue. That guy was being a dick, and he’s been a dick all year, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it but I _knew_ this would happen and I can’t deal with...” He looks away from me. After a very long time he says, “I don’t like violence.”

“Don’t we all know!” I yell, surprising myself again. I inhale sharply and rein in my emotions as his eyes dart to me, looking unfathomable. He looks back out the window, his jaw set. I stare at his perfect profile. His delicate nose, his high cheekbones, his perfect brow. A lock of hair has fallen down on his forehead and I want to brush it away, but I don’t dare. 

“I guess it’s my fault, then. I should have fought back.”

“Or you could have run.” We both know that we’re not talking about Aidan. Not anymore. 

“I don’t run from who I am.”

“That’s very poetic, Dante, but you can be who you are and still run from people who would happily see you dead.”

He closes his eyes and I know I’ve overstepped. And part of me is terrified, but part of me is furious. I keep getting images of Aidan sticking his fingers into Dante’s waistband overlaid with images of Dante in the hospital, not to mention the pictures I can’t help but imagine of him kissing Daniel, and of him lying on the ground, his body jerking with every kick. I shut my own eyes and shake my head a little, like that could clear out all the intrusive thoughts. They’re almost too much to bear. 

“I just can’t stand the thought of you hurting,” I say, and  _ now _ my voice sounds gentle. 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” he says, and now _ his _ voice sounds cold. I keep my eyes closed because I don’t want to see the look on his face. “I need some time to think,” he says after a minute. 

I cover my face with my hands. The adrenaline is only now, finally, slowing, and with it, the rage. I feel exhausted. Bone-weary. And I feel devastated. And a million other things, none of them good. 

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper into my hands. He makes a derisive noise that tears at my heart.

“I’m not going to leave you, Ari,” he says, and the tone of those words makes me understand his derision was because I had even suggested the possibility. In spite of everything, it makes me feel a little better. “I just need time to...process.” I let my hands slip a little so that I can see his face. He’s still staring out the windshield at nothing. “You didn’t look like you.” I realize he’s blinking back tears and I want nothing more than to gather him up in my arms and hold him. But everything is so fucked now and that’s not an option. (Except...he said he’s not going to leave me. All my hopes latch onto that, and I pray he doesn’t change his mind. I never knew I could feel so angry and hurt and desperate and sorry, all at once.) He swipes his eyes roughly. I can feel that he wants to say something more, and I wait. He seems to start but then stops himself. Then he sighs again. “I’ll call you,” he says, and opens the door to the truck and gets out. 

And then he’s gone. I watch him go into his house. I don’t call after him. He doesn’t look back. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	25. together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To quote the master: "...we were all right. And I needed us to be all right. And he needed us to be all right too. And so we were."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd post the update tonight and it's not night yet, but screw it. I have emotionally drained myself with this angst and I need to fix it now.

DANTE

My dad is up. Great. The last thing I want to do is have a heart-to-heart right now. I’m just too drained, and confused. So confused. So very, very confused.

“Dante,” my dad says. He’s in his study, but he heard me come in. I sigh and head in there. I’d like to say I’m going to pretend everything’s alright, but I’m not, because I can’t. That’s not how I am.

He takes one look at me and puts his book down. “Did you and Ari have a fight?” he asks, and that’s when I lose it. I burst into tears, and he stands and pulls me to him. He circles his strong arms around me and holds me while I sob. “Dante, it happens,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “It happens. Your mother and I fight sometimes, too.” 

I don’t think I’ll ever stop crying, but when I do, I’m exhausted. I collapse into one of his big leather chairs, and he sinks into his own. He sits back in his chair, crosses one leg over the other, and waits patiently for me to start talking. 

“Ari beat someone up,” I whisper, and I hate the shadow that comes into his eyes.

“Why?” His voice is stern and suddenly, I feel extremely defensive of Ari. More than anything, I want my dad to understand. I want him to understand that Ari was coming to my rescue, because Aidan had been being awful. Absolutely awful. 

Then I’m crying again. My dad reaches out a hand and grasps one of mine. “Dante. I know you’re upset. But I need you to tell me what happened,” he says. 

So I tell him. I tell him about how Aidan had been an asshole to me all year, but that I’d decided early on not to let it get to me. And I tell him - in plain language, using direct quotes - what Aidan said to me at the party, and how he’d put his hands on me. I tell him how it made my skin crawl. And I tell him that Ari swept in out of nowhere just when things were getting to be too much. I tell him how the light had left his eyes, and how he had been terrifying to watch. My dad looks at me sharply.

“Are you afraid for yourself?” he asks, sounding like he’d rather be asking anything else. 

“Well, no, Dad. Not anymore,” I say, confused. “I was pretty scared in the moment, but…”

“Are you afraid Ari could turn on you?” my dad interrupts, closing his eyes like he can’t bear the thought. I blink a few times, disbelieving.

“What?” Then I laugh. I actually laugh, in spite of everything. “How could you ask that, Dad?”

“I have to ask it, Dante.”

“Well you know the answer. You know him.” My dad opens his eyes and levels his gaze at me, clearly waiting for a direct answer. “ _ No,”  _ I say, this time without blinking. “Never. He never would. He fights  _ for _ me, Dad.  _ That’s _ the problem. Can we please refocus? _ ” _

My dad smiles a half-smile and nods, looking relieved and maybe even a little...touched. “I thought so.” Then his eyes harden again. “Is the kid okay?” The way he says “the kid” sounds like he’s spitting venom. 

“I think so. Jake - the kid whose house it was - took him into the kitchen to get him some ice. He said he was fine.”

“What stopped him?” my dad asks. His voice sounds so hard. 

“What?”

“What made Ari stop?”

“Me,” I say, as if it should be obvious. “I started yelling at him to stop, so he did.” 

There’s a moment of heavy silence, and then: “And how did you leave it with Ari?” 

“I told him I need time to think.” The tears start up again, but I’m so cried out, they’re just trickles. “He looked so horrified, Dad. Horrified and terrified. And so  _ mad. _ It was like...like he was trying to do more than just stop this jerk from harassing me. I can’t describe it.” My dad nods slowly. “But at the same time, what he was doing…it reminded me so much…and I don’t know. It’s complicated. I don’t think he was only mad at Aidan. I think he was mad at  _ me.”  _ And then I’m crying again. I don’t know where all these tears are coming from. 

My dad seems to see me clearly again then. He had been so lost in thought. “It may take a long time to get over what happened to you, Dante. It may take a long time for both of you.” He shakes his head. “Hell, you guys may never totally get over it. Neither one of you. None of us.” He sighs heavily. “You probably need sleep now,” he says gently, after a moment. I nod. I do want to sleep. I want to sleep and pretend this never happened.

“Are you going to bed, too?” I ask. 

“In a bit,” he says, and he stands and pulls me up into a tight hug. 

“Are you going to call Ari’s dad?” I ask over his shoulder.

“Not right now.” He pulls back and smiles at me. “I love you, son.”

“I love you, too,” I whisper. 

  
  


ARI

Thank God my parents are asleep when I get home. I couldn’t bear to face either of them now. I take my melting ice pack with me and go upstairs and throw myself on my bed and sob.

I’m so, so regretful. I can’t even put words to this level of regret. 

But I’m also not. Because that guy...he was doing something. He wasn’t flirting, not in the normal sense. If he had been, it would be different. If he had just been flirting - even if Dante had been flirting back - my reaction wouldn’t have been acceptable in any way. But there was a threat there, and Dante knew it, and everyone at the party knew it. Hell, they’d  _ known _ it. I was the last one to get the memo. The thought fills me with rage all over again, and I punch my pillow and then I double up in pain, clutching my throbbing hand against my chest. 

I’m furious at Dante for not telling me about this piece of shit who had apparently been trying to make him miserable all year, but I can’t really hang on to that particular fury. Not when I’m so unspeakably terrified that Dante might decide to leave me. And anyway, Dante hadn’t told me because he didn’t want me to fight. I’ve gone and done the very thing he’d been trying to avoid. I’ve proved him right, that I can’t be trusted. And anyway, I should have asked more questions about school. And I should have stayed with him at the party instead of sulking in the corner. And I…

I can’t bear to think anymore about it. 

And now my parents will find out, because they’ll want to know why I’m sleeping here and Dante is sleeping at his house. This is not our weekend norm. And they’ll notice my hand, which is already puffed up and turning a vibrant shade of purple. 

Legs is here, sniffing me all over, probably trying to decide if I’d cheated on her by petting another dog. Well, yes, Legs, I think. On top of everything else, I let you down, too. She whimpers and starts licking my hand. It hurts, so I pull it away, but then I feel guilty so I reach my non-injured hand out and start petting her gently on the head. It calms me. 

Why is Dante so mad? I know he doesn’t want me to fight, but after I’d beaten up Julian, he’d said to me that he was glad I’d broken Julian’s nose. What kind of double standard is that? I start to get mad at Dante all over again, which only causes that wave of terror to crash into me again. He can give me mixed signals all day and all night, I think, if he’ll just stay with me. 

God, I want to see him. I  _ need _ to see him. More than anything, I wish he’d come through my door right now. 

I apparently doze off - adrenaline crashes will do that to you - so when I hear the doorbell, I’m not sure I didn’t dream it. Before I have a chance to wonder, Legs is leaping out of my bed, jumping against my door, barking her head off. “Hush!” I cry, but she’s not hushing. I get up and go to my door and let her out and hover there, trying to hear. A bowling ball has settled in my stomach, because it suddenly seems so obvious to me: it’s the police. Aidan’s dad is a fucking cop, after all. 

It’s quiet downstairs for a minute, other than Legs’ insane barking, but then I hear my dad’s footsteps rushing from his bedroom, and then the front door opening. What’s weird is the lack of conversation. I don't hear a single word exchanged. Legs isn’t barking anymore, though, so it must be someone she knows. 

I try to keep my heart from soaring into my throat, but I don’t do a good job. It’s pounding against my ribcage when I hear the familiar patter of Dante’s bare feet on the stairs. 

  
  


DANTE

When I went up to bed, I couldn’t sleep. I sat on my floor for several minutes and thought about what my dad had said. That it might take a long time for either of us to get over the assault. That we may never get over it. And I couldn’t lie to myself: I completely understood why Ari had looked like that. Why his eyes had gone black with rage. 

“You can’t fix it,” I’d murmured. “You can’t turn back time.” 

But I understood how badly he must want to. I turned the tables in my mind and imagined how I’d feel if he had been the one with his face battered, his ribs broken, and I imagined how I’d feel knowing someone had done that to him and gotten away with it. 

Helpless rage welled up, choking me. 

And then I made myself imagine how I would feel if I saw someone treating him like Aidan was treating me. I consciously tried to put aside how traumatic it had been to watch Ari being so violent and instead think about how he must have felt, how he had wanted to protect me - especially because he hadn’t been able to before - and my heart filled with so much emotion I could barely get a breath. 

And it was suddenly crystal clear to me that time to think was the last thing I needed. At least not time thinking  _ alone. _ I wasn’t sure exactly how we would get past this, but I was suddenly very, very sure that we needed to do it together. 

When I got downstairs, my dad had his shoes on. He was holding the car keys. “That took even less time than I thought,” he’d said with a smile. “Let’s go.”

  


My dad said he’d talk to Ari’s parents while I went up to talk to Ari, so when we arrive, no one even speaks. Ari’s dad opens the door, looking frightened and confused in his bathrobe, and I see his mother hurrying down the hall, pulling on her own bathrobe. I watch them take in the sight of my dad and me, and I see how the tension melts out of them in an instant. It occurs to me that if they’d been asleep when Ari had gotten home they didn’t even know that Ari was home safe. For all they knew, the police were at the door with life-changing news. I feel really sorry for them right then. I feel like I understand how hard it must be to be a parent.

My dad puts his hand on Mr. Mendoza’s shoulder and smiles a comforting smile. He nods towards the kitchen, and they head that way. 

Have I mentioned I’m crazy about my parents? Because that’s why.

I rush up the stairs, praying that Ari will want to see me. He’s hovering in the doorway to his bedroom and I nearly cry with relief. The hope on his face is all the answer I need. When I throw myself into his arms, he grabs hold of me like he thought he’d never see me again. We clutch each other so tightly we nearly fall over. 

“Come here. Sit down,” I say, nudging the door shut as I pull him to his bed. He looks as much of a mess as I feel. His face is tear-streaked and puffy from crying. His eyes look droopy with exhaustion. I take his hand in mine and kiss his swollen, purple knuckles.

He starts crying again, so I kiss his tears. I don’t feel like crying anymore. I feel a weird kind of jubilation, because this night has been an utter shitshow and I think we’ve made it through to the other side and the sun hasn’t even risen yet. I don’t expect everything to suddenly be easy now - we still need to talk - but feeling how tightly his arms are holding me makes me believe we’re past the worst of it. 

“Dante.” He looks at me and I can hardly stand the look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“Me too, Ari,” I whisper back. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“All this time. All school year? We got engaged. The baby. So much has happened. I can’t believe you never told me.” The look in his eyes has me overwhelmed with guilt, but then he sighs and rubs circles on my back absentmindedly. “Except I guess you were right not to tell me, since I did exactly what you were afraid of.”

“No. I was wrong, Ari. I didn’t feel like I was keeping a secret, I swear. I had convinced myself I didn’t really care about the way they acted. But I did care, and I  _ was. _ I  _ was _ keeping a secret, and…” I shake my head. “That’s not what we do.”

He smiles at me, a little sadly. “No. It’s not what we do,” he says. 

“I won’t do it again,” I promise. “Ever. But Ari. If I tell you about someone being an asshole to me...I mean, let’s be real. It’s gonna happen again, sooner or later. And I need to know that you’re not going to try to fight them.”

He nods slowly. “I won’t. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you’re in actual danger. I mean, if it seems like we’re about to get jumped or something. I reserve the right to do whatever it takes to protect you.”

I feel my mouth quirk up on the side because, despite how upsetting it was to see him pounding Aidan’s face in, I love hearing him say he wants to protect me. “Fair enough,” I say. “But it has to be an actual threat.”

“It  _ was _ an actual threat tonight though, Dante. I mean I know you threw the drinks on him - God, that was glorious, honestly…” We both laugh, and it’s such a relief to be laughing with him, I press my forehead to his. “But I honestly think he would have hit you if I hadn’t jumped on him. I mean, he threatened you. I heard him.”

I shudder a little remembering it. “I know. You’re right. I just....” I shake my head, trying to figure out my contradictory emotions. “Seeing you fighting made all the feelings from the assault come rushing back to me. It was weird.”

“I think I understand. It was kind of that way for me, too. It was like...for a second it was like I thought Aidan was the boys who hurt you. Like he was all of them, represented by this one guy.” Ari shakes his head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does, though. When I got home and told my dad what went down, he said it was going to take a long time for us to get over what happened. That we may never get over it.”

“Cheery thought.”

I laugh without much humor. “Yeah.”

Ari cocks his head to the side and studies me a second. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Ari. Always.”

“Why did you say you were glad I broke Julian’s nose if you’re so opposed to fighting?” 

I sigh. “Honestly? I  _ was _ glad. Part of me still is. Part of me is glad you did what you did tonight.” I shrug a little. “It makes me feel like you love me.” 

Ari laughs. “Well, that’s appropriate, because I do.” 

I smile at him and he smiles back. After a minute of us just sitting there smiling at each other, I take a breath and go on. “But I also think that, if I’d seen you break Julian’s nose, I wouldn’t have liked it. I think I had just pictured you laying him out with one good punch…”

“That’s not how it happened.”

“I get that now.” I shrug. “I know it sounds like I feel two opposing things. But...well, I do.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.” 

We sit in silence for a few minutes then. The way he’s rubbing my back is so soothing, and I’m so exhausted on so many levels, and so comforted to be in his arms. I let my eyes close.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says in my ear. He pulls away, gently, and pulls the covers down. “Crawl in.”

“I need to take my clothes off first,” I murmur, fumbling with the button on my jean shorts. 

“God, I love it when you talk dirty,” he says, making me completely dissolve into laughter. He’s laughing, too, and we’re both so bleary-eyed and relieved, there’s a tinge of hysteria to it. Then we both strip down to our boxers and clamber under the covers and wrap around each other. 

“Jake’s cool,” he murmurs into my shoulder. “We should invite him to the desert.” 

I smile into his hair. “Oh really? You wanna be his friend?”

“A species of friend, maybe.”

We laugh some more, quietly. Sleepily. 

He reaches up and kisses me gently. Slowly. I kiss him back. It’s blissful. Just this sleepy, languid making out. 

“I love you, Ari,” I breathe. 

“I love you too, Dante.” He kisses my forehead, my temple, my cheek. He’s still doing it when I slip into sleep. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	26. coparenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some new content, and see some missing scenes of old content, through a fresh set of eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, [yucatanmafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatanmafia/pseuds/yucatanmafia), for being my beta for this chapter, and for all the other stuff, too. ❤

SAM

Jaime and Lilly listen without a word as I tell them the whole story. For the sake of Lilly’s ears, I don’t repeat what that kid said to my son word for word (it still makes my blood boil to think about it), but I don’t need to. They understand completely. 

When I finish, they sit quietly for a minute. Lilly reaches over and takes Jaime’s hand. 

“Those poor boys,” she says quietly.

Jaime nods. I nod. Jaime sighs. 

“What do you think we should do?” he asks Lilly. “I understand why Ari did what he did - to be honest, I’m proud of him, in a way. But we can’t let him think it’s alright to handle situations with violence every time. He’s got to find a different coping method.”

“You know I agree with you. But it doesn’t sound like he had much of a choice, Jaime,” Lilly says. Her thumb is moving back and forth across his hand restlessly. Jaime nods grimly.

“I know.” He looks at me. “What do you think of the situation?”

“Honestly, Jaime. I wish the whole situation had been handled differently. Dante could have made different choices, too. But since he did what he did, I’m glad Ari was there. I think Dante would have ended up getting hurt if he hadn’t been.”

“We can’t blame Dante,” Lilly says. 

“Oh, I’m not,” I say quickly. “That’s not what I mean, Lilly. I just mean he could have been assertive in a way that didn’t include throwing soda on the guy. Maybe the situation wouldn’t have escalated.”

“That’s a tall order for a 17 year old boy who’s getting sexually accosted. To think on his feet, take charge of the situation...and that may not have worked. There’s no way to speculate, really.”

She sounds so much like Soledad, I smile.

“Why are you smiling?”

“That’s exactly what Soledad said,” I say, and she smiles back. 

“So Soledad’s aware of what happened?” Jaime asks. I nod. 

“I woke her and told her about it after Dante went upstairs. She wanted to come, too, but we didn’t want to wake the baby. She said we should probably talk to the boys about more effective ways to handle a situation like that, but at the end of the day, when the adrenaline is flowing, it’s hard to predict how anyone will respond.” I pause, then add, “She was glad Ari was there, too.” 

Lilly and Jaime nod. I get up and get myself a glass of water. “Do either of you want some water?”

Lilly springs to her feet, pulling her bathrobe tighter. “I’m so sorry, Sam. Let me get that. Would you like me to make some coffee?” 

I wave her away. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lilly. I can get my own water. We’ve had enough family dinners that I know my way around your kitchen.” I give her a wink. 

She smiles and sits back down. 

“It’s similar to the Julian situation,” Jaime says. 

“In more ways than one,” I agree, sliding back into my seat. 

“What do you mean?” Lilly asks us both.

“Well, I just mean that it’s hard to come down on the boy when I would probably do the exact same thing for you,” Jaime tells her. “It’s hard to be civil and calm when the person you love most is being treated disrespectfully.”

I nod. “Exactly. And what _ I _ mean, Lil, is that I think the boys got in a fight about it because they both have PTSD from the assault. They both got triggered. Dante couldn’t stand to see Ari being aggressive, and Ari was instantly terrified that Dante could get hurt again and just did whatever he had to to stop it.”

“That’s the bigger issue,” Jaime agrees, and Lilly nods. 

“Is Dante still seeing a counselor?” Lilly asks. I shake my head. 

“After he and Ari got together, he said he didn’t need it anymore. And he was so happy, well. It seemed true. But we probably should have insisted he keep going.”

Lilly and Jaime exchange a grim look. “As you know, we never could get Ari to go after the accident. We should have tried harder.” 

“Things were different, then,” Jaime says. I know that they’re talking about their family dynamics. Things had really shifted for them after they helped Ari see that he was in love. 

She sighs. “I just wish Ari wasn’t so quick to violence. It worries me.” 

I reach across the table and take her hand. “I totally understand, Lil. But…” I look at Jaime for support. He turns to face her.

“I don’t think he’s more prone to violence than most other boys,” he says, and I nod. He and I have discussed this many times, so I know we’re on the same page. “At least not any more,” he continues. “I know he used to get in a lot of scuffles, but that’s my fault. I was a terrible example when it came to talking things out.” He sighs. I know how much he regrets this. He’s told me. And I also believe he’s done the best he could because of his own PTSD, which  _ I’ve _ told  _ him. _ I reach across the table with my other hand and take his hand, too. He tenses for just a second, then relaxes and holds my hand back. Then he takes Lilly’s other hand, and we just sit there for a minute, holding hands in a circle and thinking our own thoughts. 

“He’s not Bernardo,” Jaime finally says. Lilly closes her eyes, but she nods. 

“I know,” she whispers. 

I stand. “I guess I’ll go check in on the boys and see if Dante is ready to go. It’s late. We should all get some sleep.”

“Hopefully he’s not ready to go and isn’t going to be,” Jaime says, and I shoot him a smile.

“Agreed.”

I try to be quiet on the stairs because it’s so quiet in the house. I can’t hear any voices coming from Ari’s room, but I’m not sure if that means they’re talking quietly, they fell asleep, or that they are staring at each other in stony silence. It also occurs to me that they could be having sex, but to be completely honest, I think I’d hear something if that were the case. They’re not as stealthy about it as they think they are. I chuckle to myself when I remember the conversation the four of us had about it after the boys got together. 

“Dante asked me not to barge in on them,” Soledad had said, lifting an eyebrow. We were sitting in the Mendozas’ backyard, having just finished an amazing dinner off the grill. The boys had taken their skateboards out into the warm sunset. “He recommended I talk to you about privacy,” she said to Lilly. Her eyes were dancing with amusement. Lilly had cocked an eyebrow right back at her and laughed. 

“I give them privacy because there are some things you can’t unsee.” We had all laughed then. 

“Actually,” Soledad had pressed on. “I do think it’s necessary that we discuss this. I have very mixed feelings about it. Should we make them keep the door open? If one of them was a girl, we certainly would. Should we even allow sleepovers anymore?” She shrugged. “How does this work when it’s two boys?” She gave us a few minutes to sit quietly, thinking. Then she said, “As for me, I’m okay with giving them privacy if you all are. They’ve shown a great deal of maturity, and been through so much together. I don’t think their relationship is a typical teen relationship.” 

Jaime had nodded. “Agreed,” he’d murmured.

“I agree, too,” I had offered. “We’re all in agreement that Ari and Dante are in love with each other, and that they’ll probably be together for the rest of their lives.” I didn’t phrase it as a question because it wasn’t one. We had all agreed about this long before the boys got together. Everyone nodded. “Well, then, a lot of the reasons to try to keep teenagers from having sex go out the window, in my opinion. As Soledad said, their relationship is strong, and it’s not going anywhere, and I think they’ve proven they can communicate well. They should be the ones to decide when and what they do together. Unwanted pregnancy is obviously irrelevant. STDs are always a concern…” 

At this point I happened to glance at Jaime and almost laughed because of how uncomfortable he looked. I grinned at him and he rolled his eyes in this way that looked exactly like Ari, then made a long-suffering “carry on” gesture, so I did. “But I don’t think either of them could have already contracted anything...” 

“You don’t think there’s any chance Dante slept with the boy he was dating?” Lilly asked.

“Absolutely not,” Soledad and I said in unison. I shook my head and added, “Dante was way too in love with Ari. There’s no way.” The Mendozas nodded. It had been so painfully obvious to all of us at that point, how much Dante loved Ari, and that Daniel was a stand-in. “And if they’re both healthy now, I think they’ll stay that way. I don’t believe for a second either would cheat. Not after everything.”

This had made us all fall into silence as we thought about what “everything” was. I had sat there thinking about what Ari had done to Juilan, and how he had saved Dante’s life by jumping in front of the car. That memory got me thinking about the day of the accident.

The first time we had met the people who would become our closest friends was in the hospital waiting room. Soledad had spoken to Lilly on the telephone a few times - when we took Ari to the desert to look through the telescope, or when the boys wanted to have a sleepover. But the first time we ever laid eyes on them was after the accident, when Dante had finally gotten patched up enough to be released. Soledad and I had been there while they set his arm and stitched up his head. Even though the accident had happened only two blocks from our house, we knew nothing of it until we got the call since Dante had ridden to the hospital in the ambulance with Ari. (He had apparently been hyperventilating, and they didn’t know the extent of his injuries, so the paramedics had insisted.) When we rushed into the room where he was being treated, Dante was as white as a ghost. I had never seen that look on his face before, and hope I never do again. His bruised eyes were so big and glassy it was hard to see past the fear there and find  _ him.  _ Soledad took his hand, looking stoic in that way she has. It seems like the more extreme the situation, the more her expression goes neutral. I knew her well enough to know her feelings were anything but neutral, though. 

Once Dante was cleared to leave, we walked with him to the waiting room and immediately a terrified-looking couple that could only be Ari’s parents stood. Dante walked straight to them and pulled them both into a hug. The man seemed stiff and awkward, but he hugged Dante back anyway. The woman was immediately sobbing into my son’s shoulder, and he into hers. 

Soledad and I walked over and introduced ourselves by wrapping our arms around all three of them.

The first time we talked to them - and it wasn’t even  _ to _ them, it was  _ alongside _ them - was when the four of us worked together to try to convince Dante to go home. It seems significant, now, that our first interaction with them was in a coparenting way. We had no idea what kind of foreshadowing was going on right then. 

Once we had given up on trying to talk Dante into leaving the hospital, we all sat quietly and waited. Ari was still in surgery. Soledad went to the café and brought back four cups of watery coffee and a can of Coke for Dante. 

“Ari hates Cokes,” he murmured, then dissolved into exhausted tears. I rubbed his back until he eventually fell asleep, his breath still hitching. It broke my heart to see my boy, his bruised face tear-stained and bearing the weight of the world, curled up in the stiff hospital chair. He looked much younger than he was and much, much older at the same time.

That’s when the doctor appeared. He called the Mendozas back, and they exchanged nervous looks with us as they walked away, following him. I took Soledad’s hand and held it. 

After only a few minutes, the doctor reappeared. “Mr. and Mrs. Quintana,” he said, and we stood. “Would you come with me?”

We both glanced at Dante. The doctor shook his head. 

“Let him sleep. He needs it. And I want to talk to you without him, anyway.”

He led us to a small examination room just past the nurses’ desk. Jaime and Lilly were in there. Lilly was sobbing, but I could tell from the looks on their faces that Ari was all right. 

“Ari’s going to be okay,” the doctor said without preamble. “The surgeon saved his legs.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “The Mendozas gave me permission to share information with you, and with your son. Anyway, there’s something I want to be sure you understand, and I’m glad Dante is asleep because I need to say it only to you four.” 

We glanced around at each other, confused and worried. The doctor cleared his throat. Then he looked directly at Soledad and me. “Mr. and Mrs. Quintana, we’ve had a team analyzing your son’s injuries, and Aristotle’s injuries, and speaking to the responding officers and paramedics. It’s standard practice with accidents, so that we can understand what happened in that moment. But after all of the analysis, my team and I are convinced that, had Aristotle not done what he did, there is absolutely no doubt that your son would be dead.”

Soledad let out a little whimper, the sound of which I had never heard from her before, and collapsed into a vacant chair. Lilly buried her face in Jaime’s chest, crying even harder. He met my eyes across the room, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I gazed back at him numbly. The words the doctor had just said kept echoing in my head as my brain tried to grasp them. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Mendoza, your son is truly a hero.” I glanced at Soledad from a million miles away and vaguely noticed that she was crying, too. She’s not usually a crier. I put my hand on her shoulder and took a deep breath, trying to get hold of myself. The doctor’s words were running through my head on a loop: “yoursonwouldbedeadyoursonwouldbedeadyoursonwouldbedead.”

The doctor cleared his throat again. “This is difficult to hear, I know, and I apologize. But I need to be sure you know, because I can guarantee you that these two boys?  _ They _ know. Dante knows, anyway. It may take Aristotle a while to remember. He may never fully remember. But he’ll know in his heart.” The doctor took a deep breath, steepling his fingers. “I want you to be aware that it’s probably going to affect their friendship, at least for a while. It might affect their personalities to some degree. It’s a heavy thing for two people to process. But, beyond that, I would suggest that you consider…” Suddenly, the doctor was very interested in his own hands. He cleared his throat again, then seemed to make a decision. He lifted his head and looked directly at us. “I’ve been an E.R. doctor for a long time. I’ve seen a lot, more than I wish I had. I’ve seen...well, suffice it to say, I’ve seen mothers who didn’t jump in front of a car to save their child. I’ve seen husbands and wives who stood frozen, unable to act in a crucial moment…” He swallowed. “And they weren’t bad people. They were just human, and usually, the human instinct to survive outweighs everything else. We’d all like to think we would risk our lives for the people we care about, but in reality, that’s not usually what happens.” 

In some distant corner of my brain I realized the women had stopped crying. All four of us were staring at him, listening silently. “What I’m saying is,” he went on, “what Aristotle did is not common, even among people who love each other very, very much.” He seemed like he wanted to say more. He started twice, then stopped. “That’s all,” he finally said, not sounding at all finished. 

Looking back on it, I’m shocked that none of us caught on to what he was trying to tell us. 

I’ve stopped halfway up the stairs, retracing my path down the rabbit hole of memory in an attempt to recall my initial thought, and marveling at how quickly memories can zip through your head - much faster than the speed of light. 

I glance at Ari’s door and chuckle. Ah, yes. My son having sex. That’s what had started me heading down memory lane. I laugh at myself and return to the memory when the four of us had, in effect, collectively decided to turn a blind eye to our teen sons having a sexual relationship. Before Ari and Dante had met, I don’t think any of us would have ever expected, or even believed, that we would make such a choice. But after Soledad and I had both said our piece, Lilly had shocked us all by nodding pensively. 

“I agree,” she had said. “Your points make sense, but more than that...I just keep thinking about the world, and how they will have to be so careful. They can’t walk around in public holding hands, or give each other a kiss whenever they want to. They’ll always have to think about where they are and who may be watching and what could happen.” The silence fell like a blanket as her words sunk in. “We can’t do anything about the world,” she said softly, “but we can give them a safe space at home to love each other.”

That’s what did it. No one had an argument for that. 

I stand outside Ari’s door, listening, and I don’t think that’s what’s going on in there. It’s completely silent. “Boys?” I ask softly, and give a very light rap on the door. When I don’t hear anything, I open it a crack and peek in. My heart floods with love.

Their arms are around each other, and they’re sharing a pillow. Ari’s nose is pressed up against Dante’s cheek like he fell asleep giving him a kiss. Their bodies are so entwined under the blankets that there’s no way to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Good, then. They resolved it, even quicker than I had expected. I smile and turn the handle so I can close the door silently. 

ARI

“I’ll come with you,” Dante says. I had woken up almost an hour earlier, and had just been watching him sleep and idly stroking his hair while I thought about things. There were no words for how glad I was that he had come over last night. I had been lying in bed craving him, longing to see him and talk and  _ fix things, _ and then he had just materialized and, well, we’d fixed them. For the millionth time I thought he might be my own personal angel. 

Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I started kissing his neck until he woke up. And now that I’ve told him how nervous I am to face my parents, he’s rubbing his eyes and promising to come downstairs with me. 

“Good,” I say, though I feel a little guilty about it. He shouldn’t have to deal with whatever I’m going to face. He’s not the one who punched that asshole in the face. 

“Come here first, though,” he says sleepily, crawling back under the covers. 

“I don’t want to sleep any more, Dante,” I say, but I’m crawling under the covers anyway, because he asked me to. 

“I don’t want to sleep either, Ari.” His voice is playful and before I’m completely in the bed, he’s got his hands on me. I sink into his embrace and let the happiness flood through me.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, about Soledad's name. I had written this with Dante’s mom being referred to as “Chole” the whole time, but then I noticed that Sam calls her “Soledad” in the desert (p. 42), so I checked and Dante says it’s her sisters who call her “Chole” (p. 38). So Soledad it is. :D


	27. holding on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet and sexy Ari/Dante love, a lecture, a little more Jake, and some solid Gina content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter comes from [Always](https://youtu.be/kdAITCV4sro), which makes me think of Gina's feelings for Ari (poor girl)

DANTE

When we finally make it down to breakfast, Ari’s dad is reading the paper at the table. He looks up and nods good morning to us. His mom asks how we want our eggs. 

I look at Ari, eyebrows raised. He’s looking at me with the same expression. Is it possible he’s not in trouble? Or is this the calm before the storm?

He gets himself a cup of coffee as I pour myself some juice. Then we sit down with Mr. Mendoza and look at him. He puts the paper down and looks back at us with a smile.

“Dad?” Ari asks nervously. 

Mr. Mendoza raises an eyebrow. “Do you need a lecture, Ari?” he asks. Ari shakes his head vigorously. For some reason I do, too. Mr. Mendoza chuckles. “I figured not.” 

I side-eye Ari. For a split second I wonder if my dad told them the truth, but I know that’s a ridiculous thing to wonder. Of course he did. We’re not a family that lies. 

Ari gives this tiny little shrug as if to say, “hell yeah,” and takes a huge bite of the eggs-and-toast his mom has served up. 

The reason for this surprising turn of events becomes clear when we wander over to my house around lunch time. My mom stops us in the doorway, steers us into the living room, and commences a speech that is probably entitled Better Ways To Handle Being Harassed At A Party. Fortunately, she’s very compassionate about what happened--to both of us. It seems like she’s just trying to fulfill a parental obligation, and I don’t mind. Ari doesn’t seem to mind, either. He grins at her when she’s done and says, “All that makes sense, Ms. Q. We will try to remove ourselves from the situation, even if it means leaving the party, and we will refrain from throwing drinks on people and hitting them. However....” He gives her a look that makes her raise her eyebrows. “If these techniques don’t work and it looks like someone might actually hurt Dante, I  _ will  _ fight them.”

She fails at suppressing her smile. The look in her eyes is tender as she silently leans down, takes Ari’s face in her hands, and kisses him on the forehead. “Te amo hijo mío,” she murmurs. Then she sends us off to do our thing.

We have to work at four, so we spend a lazy day napping and talking about what college will be like. The tension from last night is a million years in the past. 

At one point, Ari is talking animatedly about our dorm room and how no one will be allowed in it except us, and I find myself just gazing at him, marveling that this guy is mine. His dark, silky hair has gotten so long and keeps falling in his face, and when he brushes it impatiently out of the way the simple movement of his arm brings my attention to how perfectly defined his muscles are. He’s just...perfect. Gorgeous. I’m reminded all over again that he was and always will be my rock-star-crush. 

And the things he is saying are so  _ Ari, _ so deflective but also strangely sweet, tinged with the loneliness that plagued his life, but also hopeful...I’m reminded all over again that he’s my best-friend-soulmate. That I  _ get _ him more than I’ve ever understood anyone, and good God, I love him so freaking much. 

“You’re not even listening, Dante,” he says, leveling me with a glare that’s so pretty I have to catch my breath. 

“I’m totally listening, Ari,” I say, vaguely aware that my voice is a little on the dreamy side. “No one in the room but us. Living together without anyone telling us what to do. Sex every morning when we wake up and every night before we go to sleep.”

That gets him. He blushes in that way he has, where he just turns a darker shade of lovely than he already is. “I didn’t say anything about sex, Dante,” he says, and he looks so goddamn adorable, I have to touch him. I reach for his hands and twine my fingers through his. 

“Oh, right,” I say. “That’s  _ my _ suggestion.” Then I kiss him. 

During the height of the dinner rush, Jake walks in and sits at the only empty booth. I smile at him and he smiles back. I go to get his drink order and ask him what’s up.

“I wanted some pizza. Sixteen inch pepperoni. And I wanted to tell you about Aidan.”

My stomach drops. I had sort of forgotten about Aidan, to be honest. The previous night had become all about Ari and me in my mind. “What about him?”

“He didn’t tell his dad what happened. His dad is a real asshole to him, so he didn’t want him questioning other kids from the party and finding out he’d been being a jerk. He also didn’t want his dad to find out he didn’t fight back. His dad’s real into the whole don’t-start-fights-but-finish-them thing.” Jake shrugs. “He said he got jumped in the park and sent the boys who jumped him home crying to their mothers.”

That made me laugh, hard. “What a punk,” I say, but I actually feel kind of sorry for Aidan. I didn’t realize his dad was mean to him. Not that that excuses anything at all, but I still feel sorry for him. 

“Yeah. Anyway, I thought you and Ari’d want to know. In case you were worried about it.” 

“Thanks, Jake. That was really cool of you.”

While I’m ringing in his pizza and getting his Coke, Gina walks in. I hurry over with Jake’s drink in my hand and hug her. 

“What are you doing here, sans your other half?” I ask. She laughs. 

“Susie and Sara are on a big date. It’s their five-and-three-quarter-months anniversary or something.” She rolls her eyes and it strikes me that Gina and Ari are similar in a certain weird, non-obvious way. I grin at her. 

“We’re all full right now, but you can wait for a table if you want,” I say. Then I get an idea. “Unless you want to sit with my friend Jake from school? He’s cool.” Then I think of how that would look. Jake and Gina in a booth together on a Saturday night. “Unless Tone would mind…”

She gives me a look. “Tone doesn’t dictate what I do. And I love meeting new people. I’m down if your friend is.”

There’s something about the way she says that about Tone that makes me raise my eyebrow. “Are you and Tone doing okay?” 

Out of the corner of my eye I notice one of my tables trying to get my attention. I send my most charming smile to them and turn back to Gina because she’s just replied, “Not really.”

“What’s up?”

The guy at the table starts waving. She sees him and says, “It’s a long story. We should probably talk later.”

“Wanna go to the desert with Ari and me tonight? We get off at ten.”

“Sure.” 

So I take her to Jake’s table, along with his drink. He seems surprised and incredibly pleased when I introduce them and I hope I’m not betraying Tone somehow. 

Sometimes I really feel Ari’s aversion to having friends. It can complicate the simplest things. 

I check on my tables, starting with the folks waving at me. Turns out they need a side of Ranch for their pizza crusts.  _ Emergency for sure _ I think, as I smile patiently and swear I’ll be right back. Waiting tables really makes you realize how  _ important _ some people think going out to eat is. I love people, but good God. 

Fortunately, the need for a side of Ranch takes me into the kitchen and I’m able to fill Ari in. Tone isn’t here tonight so I don’t have to worry about him overhearing, but it also makes me wonder that Gina is out and about alone on a Saturday night when her boyfriend is off work. Something’s definitely up, and I’m glad she’s coming out with us later.

“Well, that’s good news about Aidan anyway. And about Gina, I’m not surprised,” Ari says as he folds fresh basil into a simmering alfredo. I watch him, starry-eyed, and almost say something about what an amazing husband he’s going to be, but he interrupts my thoughts by saying, “Tone told me he thinks she might be about to dump him.” 

“When did he say that?” I ask. 

“When we worked together a few days ago. Wednesday, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“First of all, we’re above gossip,” Ari says loftily, dumping penne into the alfredo. I laugh and after a second he catches my eye and laughs, too. “Also, when I’m with you I’m not thinking about anyone else. Also, Tone says that on the regular.” 

It takes me a second to process his last sentence because I’m absolutely melting at his feet because of his next-to-last sentence. “Tone says that?” I ask, finally. Ari pours the pasta-and-alfredo on a plate and hands it to me. 

“Hands,” he says, using restaurant lingo that means “here’s the food for your table.” He grins and says, “And yeah. He says that all the time.”

“You forgot the breadstick,” I say distractedly. “I wonder why he says that.”

“I guess we’ll find out later, since you invited her on our after-work date,” Ari teases, dropping a hot breadstick onto the plate and kissing me, hard and quick, on my mouth. “Aren’t you busy with a full house?”

“Whatever,” I say, but I hurry out with the side of Ranch and the plate of pasta. 

Jake and Gina have clearly hit it off. We’re ten minutes from closing and they’re still here, laughing and talking like old friends. They’re my last table so I start putting chairs up around them. 

“Hey, are you closing already?” Jake asks. “I was about to order another pizza.”

“Too late,” I say, dropping his check on the table. He laughs. I try to ignore their “it was so incredible to meet you” conversation and instead sing along with the oldies bop piping through the speakers:  _ One fine day, you’ll look at me, and you will know our love was meant to be, _ which makes me think of Ari and swoon a little. 

Gina convinces Jake she’ll get home fine on her own and he leaves, high-fiving me and thanking me for the “intro,” as he calls it, and I do my best to smile at him. Truth be told, I’ve got a bowling ball in my stomach because I feel like I just made major trouble for Tone, and even if I don’t feel super-close to him, I know he and Ari are actual, legit friends. 

Gina is in the passenger seat because she knows the drill:  _ I _ ride next to Ari. I feel a little guilty for sitting so far away from him last night and try to make up for it by nuzzling his neck and rubbing his belly while he drives.

“You’re gonna need to quit that, Dante,” he mutters after a few minutes, and I don’t even need to look down to know that I’ve totally turned him on. The sound of his voice tells all.

“No doubt,” Gina says huffily. “I’m feeling like a hard-core third wheel right now.” I respond by turning to her and draping myself around her, which she winces away from. “God, STOP, Dante. You’re not funny,” she says, laughing. 

Ari reaches out one hand and pulls me back over to him. “What she said,” he says, but he’s smirking. 

When we get to the desert, Ari spreads our comforter and quilt in the bed of the truck, then Gina and I climb up. Gina pulls out her pack of cigarettes and a joint. “Tell me about Jake,” she says, lighting the joint, taking a deep inhale, and passing it to me. 

“Tell me about Tone,” I counter, my voice tight because I’m holding the hit. She sighs and lights a cigarette with the grace of a 40s movie star. It occurs to me, again, that I’m glad Ari’s not bi, because I suspect she’s a total catch for anyone into girls. 

Not that I actually think he’d want anyone but me. The surety of this makes me smile to myself. 

“Okay,” she says after a second, exhaling her smoke in a long, blue stream. She looks at us with her huge dark eyes. “Tone’s hot. I know you guys know that.” She waves her cigarette dismissively, and I side-eye Ari. He’s side-eyeing me. Okay, good. We’re on the same page; neither of us have thought of him as “hot.” 

“But,” she says dramatically, then all the energy seems to go out of her. She wilts into the quilt and takes a mournful drag from her cigarette and I almost laugh. She’s an entertaining girl, Gina. “He’s not for me.”

“You’re  _ dating _ him, Gina,” Ari points out. Quite logically, in my opinion. 

“I know!” she cries. “But that’s only because he sorta reminds me of  _ you.” _ She points her cigarette accusingly at Ari. “He’s dark, and quiet, and tough, and built.” She shrugs. “He seemed like the next best thing.”

Ari and I look at each other, eyebrows raised. 

“And I’ve tried. Lord knows, I’ve tried. But I’ve never really been into him.”

“You’ve been dating him for months,” Ari says. 

“Yeah.” She looks sad. 

“I get it,” I say, and I feel Ari look at me. “I tried  _ so hard _ to be into Daniel,” I confessed. “He was super cute. He was funny. He was charming and charismatic. It should have worked.”

Ari clears his throat and I look at him. His cocked eyebrow makes me laugh. 

“It’s not our fault that you set the bar so high, Ari,” Gina says.

“Exactly,” I say, fist-bumping her without looking away from Ari. He is clearly trying to fight a self-contented smirk. I smirk back.

“Anyway,” Gina says. “I decided a couple of weeks ago I need to end it. It’s not fair to him, really.” She shakes her head. “It never was.”

“So now you’re into Jake? Or is he just another stand-in for stud-muffin here?” I ask. I’m being silly, trying to make light, because on some level the whole situation is just plain weird. But also not. Maybe it’s not weird at all; maybe it’s just complicated.

“Too early to tell,” Gina says airily. “But...I will say, I already feel like Jake is more of a friend than Tone has ever been.” 

“Tone’s your friend.” The defensiveness in Ari’s voice makes me realize how weird this must be for him. He’s friends with Tone, for one thing. He’s also the one everything is sort of being blamed on, and it’s not his fault. He had just been going about life, minding his own business and existing. It’s not his fault he’s the hottest, sweetest, most intriguing guy on the planet. 

“Oh, he is!” Gina protests. “He  _ is _ my friend. He’s great. That’s why I’ve kept dating him. Honestly, he’s a total catch. He’s just…” She trails off and shrugs, a little helplessly.

“I get it,” I say for the second time tonight. I’m thinking of Daniel again. I really did try to be into him. Hanging out with him had been like when you try to make a fire, and you lay all the tinder just right but it never catches. “Were you always kissing Ari in your head, when you were kissing Tone?” I ask. Ari turns to glare at me, but Gina’s nodding. I nod, too, in understanding.

“I’m thinking you guys would like to have a private conversation,” Ari says flatly. I shoot him an apologetic grin and take his hand.

“Sorry, babe,” I say. I look at Gina. “So, yeah. About Jake.” I tell her everything I know. He’s a white kid, obviously. His parents are rich as hell, judging from his house. He’s a Catholic and, despite his carefree air, he’s in Honors classes and gets great grades as far as I know. And he’s been cool with me since I came out. He never even looked at me weird, which is more than I can say for all the other boys at Cathedral, despite the fact that most of them ended up seeming to not care that I’m gay. 

Come to think of it, Jake might be the reason most of the guys there accepted me. He’s the most popular kid in school, so when he acted like it was no big deal that I had a boyfriend, a lot of guys probably followed suit just to stay in his good graces. I told her all of this. By the time I was done, she looked starry-eyed.

“I’m glad I gave him my number,” she says. 

“So you’re gonna break up with Tone?” Ari asks. She looks at him with worried eyes.

“I have to, Ari. The longer I stay with him, the more I’m leading him on. It’s not gonna go anywhere. You won’t tell him, will you? He should hear it from me.”

“Of course I won’t tell him, Gina. And I get it. It’s a bummer for him, but you’re right - staying with him at this point would be even worse.”

We lie down and look up at the stars until Gina says she has to be home by midnight. We pile back in the truck and Ari drives her home. When she gets out, she reaches across me to hug Ari, then she hugs me. “Thanks for listening,” she says. “You’re good friends. And thanks for the intel about Jake.” She winks at me. 

“Love you, girl,” I say, and she blows us kisses as she runs into the house. 

“So you’re really not going to tell Tone?” I ask Ari as he backs out of her driveway.

“God, no. He’s my pal, but she’s my  _ friend.” _

“Ah. So it’s a species-of-friend thing,” I say, smirking. He laughs.

“Yeah. I guess so. Besides, she’s right - he should hear it from her. He’s gonna be bummed, though. He says she’s the hottest girl he’s ever been with.”

I think for a minute. “I wonder if she’s ever going to get over you,” I say. He sighs.

“God, I hope so. I feel so  _ bad _ about hurting her.” 

“You’re sweet, Ari, to be so good to her. I think a lot of guys would be so uncomfortable they wouldn’t keep talking to her.”

He shrugs. “She’s my friend.” 

“And you’re loyal,” I whisper, resuming my neck-nuzzling and belly-rubbing from earlier. I feel his breathing get deeper and heavier and by the time we pull into my driveway, he’s kind of humming in the back of his throat. He turns the truck off, scoots the seat back as far as it will go, and pulls me into his lap so that I’m straddling him with my back to the steering wheel. He puts his hands on my rear and pulls me tight against him and kisses me sloppily. His tongue is in my mouth and his hands are up my shirt and I grin to myself because I hadn’t known that a simple belly-rub would do this to him, and now I do. Definitely going to keep  _ that  _ in my back pocket. 

“I need to get you inside before I spontaneously combust,” he murmurs, and then he opens his door, grasps my rear again (I love his hands there), and slides out, still holding me. I wrap my arms and legs around him and hang on tight as he kicks the door shut and carries me up to my house, kissing me the whole way. He sets me down to fumble for his key, but then he can’t seem to stop himself from kissing me long enough to put it in the lock. I laugh and pull my own out of my pocket and get the door open while he’s sucking on my neck. As he pulls me up the stairs and into my bedroom, flashing a bright smile at me as he shuts the door behind us, all I can think about is how lucky I am.

I quickly forget to think about luck, though. I quickly stop  _ thinking _ at all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	28. even after all this time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go on an anniversary date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this isn't smutty, but it gets a little...kinky? Just to warn you...

ARI

When I get to the pool, I spot Dante swimming laps. He had headed over before me today because I needed to cut the lawn. I spot his towel on a seat so I drop mine on top of it, toe off my shoes, pull off my shirt, and sit down on the side of the pool. I watch him as he swims closer and closer. I don’t think he’s seen me yet. He moves through the water with such grace it astounds me, even after all this time. As he swims past, he suddenly makes a sharp turn and pops up right in front of me, between my legs. It startles me so much I bust out laughing. 

“How did you know I was here?” I ask, leaning forward to put my hands on his shoulders. We don’t usually show affection at the pool because of the jerk lifeguards and all the families with little kids who are already wary of teenagers just for existing. It seems like it would be more trouble than it’s worth to call attention to ourselves. But he looks so pretty, all sunkissed and dripping wet, I can’t help but give his shoulders a squeeze. He wipes water out of his face and responds to my touch by touching me back--he puts his hands on my thighs. 

“I recognized your feet underwater,” he says simply, and I laugh again. 

“Of course you did,” I say. 

“You know what today is?” 

“Thursday?”

Dante laughs. “Yes, but that’s not all.” He grins up at me, squinting in the sun, and suddenly I have a flashback of squinting up at  _ him  _ as I stood in the water and he sat on the side of the pool. We hadn’t been touching then. It was the first time we met. And it’s weird because I swear it hadn’t been in my mind at all, but suddenly I know what today is.

I slide into the water, and he’s standing so close our bodies are touching in the cool water. I put my arms around him, not giving a damn that we’re at the pool with asshole lifeguards and families with small children. They should all get a good eyeful anyway, I decide, so they can see what true love looks like. 

“It’s the day we met,” I say quietly, and he nods and beams at me and I kiss him. No tongue or anything - just a quick, soft kiss - and then I pull him into a hug. Over his shoulder I see two lifeguards gawking at us. One smacks the other and says something and the other one laughs and nods. I smile at them wickedly and then bury my face in Dante’s wet neck until he giggles. I laugh a little, too, just because I’m imagining what me-two-years-ago would have said if someone had told me in two years I’d be standing in the same place in the pool, kissing that weird kid with the squeaky voice who was offering to teach me how to swim. 

“Race you!” he cries, pulling away and diving back under the water. 

“Hey!” I shout after him. “Not fair!” I laugh and dive after him, though. It’s not like I’d win even if I had a head start - he’s too good of a swimmer.

We’re not supposed to swim laps in the same lane, but this is the third summer in a row that we’ve done it (though, honestly, we didn’t swim together a whole lot last summer...last summer was weird). The lifeguards have never called us out. A lot of the same lifeguards have been here all three years, so maybe they’ve watched and can tell how in sync we are and realize we’re not going to run into each other...or maybe they just don’t give a shit. Probably the latter. At any rate, I half expect them to make trouble for us now, since they just had all their suspicions confirmed. (I have no idea if they suspected we were together, but I like to pretend that they did.) But they don’t say a word. They leave us in peace and we spend hours swimming and talking and laughing. 

“Let’s have a date tonight,” I say when we’re toweling off. It’s mid-afternoon and we’re both starving because we haven’t had lunch yet. “An anniversary date.” 

“Way ahead of you, my love.” He says with a wink.

He wasn’t kidding. I had promised him to be the best boyfriend in the world, so usually, when we do something romantic, I’m the one who plans it (which is incredibly ironic, I admit). But he has his own plan now, apparently, because he’s told me he’s going to be the one to drive tonight.

  
  


DANTE

Driving Ari’s truck is no joke. That thing is a beast. I’ve driven it before, of course, but only when he was teaching me. I haven’t actually driven-driven it around town. Especially not with him blindfolded.

_ “Seriously?”  _ he asked when I held out the bandana. 

“Quite seriously,” I said, and grinned wickedly at him. 

I was slightly worried he’d refuse to put it on, but I should have known better. I’m pretty sure that boy would do anything I asked him to. 

The first stop was at our favorite Mexian café for take-out. I had called earlier, after he went outside to cut the lawn and before I left for the pool, and ordered ahead of time. Ari’s none too thrilled about sitting blindfolded in the truck while I run in, but he doesn’t protest too much.

“Just hurry up, Dante. I feel like an idiot.”

When I get back into the truck with the food, he takes one whiff and grins. “I don’t need to be blindfolded for this. I would recognize that smell anywhere. Enchiladas, right?”

“Hush,” I say, putting the food carefully behind the seat and tugging on him. “Come snuggle up with me while I drive.” I don’t have to ask him twice. 

“I kinda like this,” he says, brushing his lips across my neck and collarbone in a tantalizing way. “Without my eyes, my other senses are sharper. You smell incredible.” 

I squirm a little, half because what he’s doing tickles and half because it’s turning me on. “Would you  _ wait?”  _ I ask, laughing. “I’m afraid I’m gonna crash the truck.”

He pauses in his kisses, then sits up. “Wow. You just discovered the only words you could say that would make me quit trying to seduce you right now.” We both laugh. 

Finally, we get where we’re going, and I get super excited when I see it. Mountain Shadow Lake is such a popular place to hang out during the summer, I was expecting it to be full of people, even at night. But for some reason, there are only a handful of people here, all couples in their own world and not paying each other the least bit of attention. 

It’s a little weird that we’ve never come out here. It’s a beautiful lake with a short little sandbar. Nothing like the ocean, of course, but still a lovely place and, like I said, a popular hangout. But then again, maybe it’s not that weird. Even though I’ve been before, with my parents, it’s kind of unofficially known as a date spot. And since the first two summers Ari and I knew each other, we weren’t dating (well, at the end of last summer we were, but by that time it was so late in the summer, I don’t think either of us thought about it), and this summer has really just begun, I guess it’s not  _ that _ weird that we’ve never been here together.

Anyway, it’s perfect tonight. There is a double-moon: the crescent in the sky, and the crescent in the still mirror of the lake. Even the stars are mirrored, so that it looks like the night sky is spread before us as well as all around us. 

He hops out of the truck and waits for me. I take the food out of the back, along with the duffel bag into which I’d shoved an old blanket and a thermos of iced tea. Then I take Ari’s hand and lead him towards the sandbar. 

“It’s quiet,” he remarks. I smile and keep pulling him along behind me. I get a good spot, far enough away from the few other couples that are snuggled on their own blankets, and tell him to stop. 

“Give me just a minute,” I say, and he waits patiently while I spread the blanket and put out the food and light a candle I brought. I wasn’t sure if it would stay lit, but the air is still and calm, and it does. 

“Okay,” I say, moving around behind him to untie the bandana. He stops me. 

“Let me just...do this first,” he murmurs, and he pulls me into his arms and kisses me deeply. He kisses me for a long time; so long that I forget where we are. 

“I like this,” he says when he eventually pulls back. “I like being blindfolded. Feeling like you’re in charge.” His voice has this weird sound to it I haven’t heard before, and it makes my stomach flip over. 

“Damn, Ari, you’re making me want to try it,” I say, a little giddily. He laughs. 

“Oh, it’s definitely your turn next.” His hands are still on my waist, mine around his shoulders, so it’s easy to reach up and untie the knot. The bandana falls away and he blinks a few times, smiling at me. Then he looks around. 

“Where are we?” he gasps. 

“Mountain Shadow Lake. Have you never been here?” 

He shakes his head, taking in the starry black plane of the lake, the velvety sky, the blanket and the candle. Then he looks back up at me. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” he whispers. I smile, feeling thoroughly successful and intoxicatedly in love. 

“Happy anniversary of...the first day of our lives,” I reply, pulling him down onto the blanket.

“Perfect way to put it,” he says. “My life started the day I met you.” 

ARI

We eat the half-cold enchiladas with plastic forks out of a shared styrofoam container, and I swear it’s the most romantic meal I’ve ever had. 

We look out at the lake. It’s truly magical, the way the stars seem to start near our feet and then just keep going on forever, up into the heavens. After a moment I glance over at him and take a sharp inhale. He notices. 

“What, Ari?” he asks quietly, looking at me. 

“Nothing. It’s just. Even after all this time, your face catches me off guard.” 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just so beautiful, Dante.” 

A smile spreads across his face, lighting it up even more. Then he crawls onto me and we fall back onto the blanket. 

When we finally stop making out long enough to look around, the sandbar is empty. The other couples have left. I wonder what time it is and find I don’t really care. 

“Wanna go swimming?” I ask him, and he grins.

We strip down to our boxers and wade in. The water is warmer than pool water, and  _ softer  _ somehow. I pull him out until our heads are the only parts of us above water, and then I put my hands on him. He holds onto my shoulders and lets me. We’re surrounded by stars, all around and above us, but even so, we don’t take our eyes off each other. His lips are parted and his eyes are wild and he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And from the way he’s looking at me, it’s clear that, by some miracle, he feels the same way about me.

I wasn’t kidding about blindfolding him. There was something incredibly liberating about it, being so physically vulnerable with the person I trust most in the world. It was also...well, it was hot. I’d meant what I said about my other senses being heightened, and not only that. The whole time I’d been blindfolded, I’d kept hoping he’d kiss me. Touch me. I wanted to feel what it was like to be surprised by where, and how, he might decide to touch me. 

And I wanted to give him that feeling. That excitement. So when we get back to his house late that night, and get up to his bedroom, I hold out the bandana with a cocked eyebrow. He looks a little nervous, but not in a way that sets off any alarm bells. He knows he can tell me no, but more significantly, he wouldn’t have to. I would know if he didn’t want to do it.

Actually, “nervous” probably isn’t the right word. He looks  _ excited. _ He grins and lets me tie the bandana onto him. Then I put my hands underneath his shirt and let them travel up, across the flat plane of his stomach, over his chest. I pull his shirt off carefully so as not to disrupt the blindfold. He’s biting his bottom lip and smiling at the same time. 

“This  _ is _ fun,” he whispers, leaning his head back to give me plenty of space to kiss his neck. I fucking love kissing his neck; the many love marks in various stages of healing that have become a norm on him are proof. He loves it, too; that’s one of the main reasons  _ I _ love it. The little sounds he makes when I’m doing it absolutely melt me, every time. 

I pull him over to his bed, still blindfolded, and continue undressing him. He’s shaking a little, but his hands are tangled up in my hair and pulling it by the roots, so I know he’s into it. All the same, I ask, “You good?” 

“Never been better. Don’t stop,” he breathes. 

So I don’t. 


	29. gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some painful shit goes down for some of the boys' friends. 
> 
> Also, the boys babysit Joaquin and have a Very Important Conversation. ♥
> 
> Please see beginning notes for trigger warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW (also a spoiler alert but sorry, not sure how to make it otherwise!): unintentional outing with subsequent intense negative reactions from parents

DANTE

“The thing about Gina,” Jake says, dribbling the ball way too long, “is that we’re going to different schools. Different cities. We really can’t catch feelings.” He shoots his shot and Ari effortlessly deflects it. For a guy who hasn’t played basketball other than shooting occasional hoops in the park, he’s a natural. 

Of course he is. 

“That’s a shitty perspective,” he says bluntly. Then he tosses the ball towards the goal without taking his eyes off Jake. It goes in with a  _ swish. _

God, I love him. 

“How so, man?” Jake asks, taking control of the ball again. He seems genuinely distressed. “I don’t want to hold her back. And I don’t want her to hold  _ me _ back. It’s just a summertime thing.” He shakes his head, making a shot again. Ari deflects it with a flat expression. Jake looks at him and he seems a little helpless. I can’t help but gaze in adoration. Ari is in defensive mode, and I kinda love to see it.

“Is  _ she _ aware it’s just a summertime thing?” he asks, tossing the ball without watching again, and again, making the shot. 

“Surely she does,” Jake says, snagging the ball and starting up with the dribbling again. Ari takes it from him so smoothly that I don’t see it happen. Jake either, from the way he looks at Ari and the ball in surprise. 

“Maybe you should make sure,” Ari says, shooting another shot that’s nothing-but-net. 

“Understood,” Jake says, and I have to hand it to him. He gets it. 

When Jake invited us over to shoot baskets on his (very swanky) patio, I hadn’t really known what to expect. I wasn’t sure Ari would even go, but he seems to be serious about expanding his social circle (which I know _ , _ beyond a shadow of a doubt, is to make me happy), so he said “Sure.” But when the talk turned to Gina, his hackles went up.  _ He really cares about her, _ I thought, and my heart swelled. 

I mean, Ari is the most incredible guy in the universe. He deserves friends. 

Now we’re sitting at the little table in the yard, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of flowering bushes that only a paid gardener could maintain in the summer heat, and sipping lemonade I’m pretty sure was made from fresh lemons. His mom had brought it out to us, all vacant smiles and expensive clothing, and I felt a rush of gratitude for my parents. All four of them.

“So,” Jake says conversationally. “Are you guys really engaged?”

I remember telling him about this after it happened. He was standing by my locker and I may have been gushing. He had been grinning. 

“Yep,” I say, but he’s looking at Ari as if he needs confirmation from him. Ari cocks an eyebrow and grins.

“Yep,” he says. He’s onto Jake. Jake is onto him. I’m just sitting here glad to witness this whole thing go down.

Ari making friends is A Whole Phenomenon. I watched him do it with Susie, I watched him do it with Gina. I even watched him do it with Tone, though their friendship is somewhat foreign to me; it seems based on work and the fact that they both identify as Mexican-American. (Which I do, too, but...it’s different.) I watched him do it with Sara, though she was my friend first, so it’s like Jake but also not. 

His friendship with Jake is similar, but different. He’s wary (like he was with Sara), and he trusts my judgment (like he did with Sara), but he also has his own experience to back it up. Jake is probably the whole reason Ari didn’t get charged with assault at the party. 

He’s also probably the whole reason I wasn’t harassed at Cathedral for the entirety of my senior year. Ari knows this now, too, and I think it went a long way. 

Anyway, watching Ari make friends is a whole thing. 

He’s so careful, and slow, and trepidatious. I try to think back to when he made friends with me. 

He was careful, and slow, and trepidatious, it’s true. But he also wasn’t. It was different with me. With me, it was like he was slowly accepting something inevitable, rather than making a choice. It makes me smile to think about it. 

“So when is the wedding?” Jake asks, helping himself to an obscene handful of chips. Ari glances at me. I glance at him. 

“Whenever he wants,” we say in unison, and then we grin at each other because really...really...we’re the only two people in the world. 

“Well, you guys are relationship goals if nothing else,” Jake says, taking another handful of chips. I smile at him, then look at Ari. I’m happy to see he’s smiling at Jake, too. 

“That, we are,” he says, taking his own handful of chips. 

We have to get home by five because we’re babysitting Joaquin. My mom has finally decided that she can leave him for a few hours. She’s not comfortable with it, I can tell, but it’s necessary. She’s going back to work next week and even though my dad will be home with him (since it’s summer and he only has one class he’s teaching on Tuesday and Thursday nights), I know she’s nervous. She wants to practice leaving the baby. Not that she doesn’t trust my dad or Ari and me - I know she does. But I can tell her reluctance runs deeper than what I can fully understand, and I respect that. 

So we thank Jake and head out. When we get home, I can tell my mom is a nervous wreck. Not that she’s showing it - her demeanor is, as always, super-cool. But there’s something in her eyes that makes me realize she’s not as inscrutable as I always thought. I think I get her now.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Q. We’ll take good care of him, “Ari says. He clearly gets her, too, and it’s taken him a lot less time than it took me. When he meets my eye, I realize how adoringly I’m looking at him. He just smiles. 

She hands the baby over to him. It doesn’t bother me that she hands Joaquin to Ari instead of to me. We all know that it’s Ari who has the deepest connection with him. He says it’s because of me. 

“It may sound weird, Dante, but he’s so much  _ like _ you,” Ari said to me recently. “I guess that sounds creepy, considering what we just finished doing.” We were lying naked in the back of the truck at the time. I laughed. “But you know what I mean, right?” He’d looked over at me, his face shining in the starlight. “His eyes are smart, like yours are. I feel like he really  _ sees _ me. Not many people do.” 

I hadn’t had words to respond, so I’d crawled back on top of him. 

I guess we’re both fluent in each other’s language now. 

“Yeah, Mom, we’ve got this. I promise,” I say now. She smiles at us, all smooth composure. And yet she doesn’t leave.

“Soledad,” my dad says in that voice of his. It’s gentle and commanding, all at once. She nods.

“Yes, yes. Well, okay.” My mom kisses us both on the cheek, then she kisses Joaquin on the forehead. “If you have any problems, just call the restaurant and have them come find us.”

“Mrs. Q, with all due respect,  _ you’ve _ called  _ me _ to come help with him in the middle of the night,” Ari says practically. My dad smirks and my mom laughs a little.

“Fair enough. Okay, we’ll be back in two hours.” She resolutely turns and heads out the door. 

“Probably more like three or four,” my dad says, winking at us, and we both laugh as he follows her out.

Turns out, watching Joaquin is a total breeze. I mean, he  _ is _ a super sweet baby. “Like you,” Ari says with a wink, and I roll my eyes but can’t quite suppress my smile. I give Joaquin a bottle, then Ari rocks him while we watch TV. When it’s clear the baby is out like a light, Ari takes him upstairs and puts him in his crib. He comes down a few minutes later and says, “How would you feel about popcorn?”

We eat microwave popcorn out of the bag and flip through channels, tangled up on the couch. Eventually we lie down, Ari’s back against my chest. He twines his fingers through mine. I hold him tight. 

“Do you want kids?” I ask him, remembering a promise I’d made to myself long ago to ask him about this. He turns his head enough that he can look at my face. 

“Do you?”

I glance down at him. God, he’s beautiful. “I asked you first,” I say, smiling. He smiles back at me, then settles his head back down onto the throw pillow. 

“Yeah,” he says, simply. “If anyone will let us adopt.” 

This shouldn’t be surprising. It’s obvious from how he is with Joaquin that he would make an amazing father. He  _ will _ make an amazing father. And yet, for some reason, hearing him say it makes my heart completely overflow with joy. I’m not expecting how utterly overwhelmed I become. 

He repeats, “Do you?” after a minute, and I realize I’ve been completely silent. He turns his face to look up at me again and laughs the sweetest, most understanding laugh in the world. 

“Okay then,” he whispers, reaching his face up to kiss the tears off my cheeks. “We’ll do it.” 

I’m sorry to say we’re quite compromised when my parents get home, mostly because I’m on top of him, kissing him senseless. 

ARI

Work the next day is...depressing. 

First, Tone tells me that the new girl he’d been talking to since Gina dumped him had ghosted him. “I don’t know why, man. She just quit returning my calls. I showed up at her house yesterday with flowers, thinking maybe I’d done something wrong, and her younger sister came to the door to tell me she’s not interested anymore.” 

I grimace. “Sorry, man. That’s rough.” 

Tone sighs. He seems really sad. He’s really a big softie underneath his tough-guy persona. 

“You’ll find somebody new,” I say half-heartedly. I mean, I believe he will, but I also don’t really think saying it will help much right now. All I can think about is how glad I am to have Dante. To know that the struggle of finding the “right person”--and the worry that it might never happen--is a struggle I’ll ever need to deal with. When he comes into the back for an extra side of pizza sauce, I grab him and kiss him way more intensely than I’ve ever kissed him at work. I hear Freddy laughing. 

“Woah, take it easy, boys. You’re on the clock,” he says, but when I pull away from Dante, the way he’s blinking rapidly, and blushing a little, and smirking his best proud-as-hell-Dante-smirk make me really glad I did it. 

Anyway, Tone’s in such a glum mood, it’s hard not to catch it. Then, what’s worse...Sara shows up. This is bad because she’s not scheduled tonight. She wanders into the back, looking downtrodden. 

“What’s up, Sara?” I ask. Dante has followed her back, curious why she looks so sad. 

Sara puts her hands over the pizza oven as if it’s a campfire. She does that sometimes. That girl is always cold. “I’m completely screwed,” she says. Dante and I exchange a look.

“How so?” he prompts, when it seems that she’s not going to go on. She looks at us with tears in her eyes. 

“My parents hate me. And I broke up with Susie.”

Dante and I stand there, speechless. She and Susie were crazy about each other. A sense of foreboding settles in my stomach; I think I know what happened. One glance at Dante tells me he knows, too. 

“Can they come out back with me?” Sara asks Freddy. Freddy sighs deeply, but looks at Tone. “You good by yourself back here if I go take care of Dante’s tables for a few?” he asks him. Tone nods, looking more morose than ever. Freddy nods us towards the heavy back door and disappears through the saloon doors to the dining area. 

On the back stoop, Sara sits down and puts her head in her hands. “Her parents caught us,” she says without preamble. “We were making out in her bed. We didn’t even know her parents had gotten home.” She shakes her head, looking agonized. “Her mom walked in her room at a...very vulnerable moment.” 

“Oh no,” Dante says, horrified. He reaches for my hand. I weave my fingers through his and hang on tight. 

“Her parents called my parents before I even got home,” Sara says, looking up at us. Her eyes are full of tears. “I have never seen that look on their faces before. It was like they found me...disgusting. Repulsive. They screamed at me for an hour. It was terrible.”

“Are you going to be okay staying there?” I ask her. She shrugs. 

“Yeah. They’re not the violent type or anything. Hell, they didn’t even ground me. They just made it clear they think I’m a piece of trash.”

“When did you break up with Susie?” Dante asks. He has tears in his eyes, too. I squeeze his hand and he clings to my arm.

“On the way to Gina’s house. I walked her there. Her dad said he was going to call my parents, so...I  _ had _ to.” Her eyes are wide and pleading as she looks up at us. “Listen, I like her. A lot. But this isn’t what I signed up for, you know? I’m not trying to have drama around my sexuality when I don’t even know what it is yet.” She must have seen the furious look on my face, because she sat up straighter and said, “I had to, Ari! I told my parents she was the first girl I’d ever been with. That I was just experimenting. I told them I’d ended it.”

Neither one of us moves to comfort her. 

“Did it help? To tell them that?” I ask, and despite how angry I’m feeling, the coldness in my voice still surprises me. 

Sara looks away. “A little,” she admits in a small, miserable voice.

“Did _Susie_ know you were just experimenting?” I demand. I’m reminded of my conversation with Jake from earlier. Why does everything think it’s okay to play with someone’s heart? She blinks at me and doesn’t say a word.

“What happened to her?” Dante asks, and his voice is so sharp and demanding, it pulls out attention instantly. 

Shit, I think. That  _ is _ the most important question right now. Leave it to Dante to see clearly, even in a crisis.

“She got kicked out,” Sara said. “Her parents didn’t yell. They were cold as ice. They barely gave us time to get our t-shirts on. I had to carry my shoes out with me…”

“She got kicked out, like, permanently?” Dante interrupts her, refusing to lose focus. God, I love him.

“I guess. That’s what it sounded like. Her parents said it was unforgivable. They said she could forget about them paying for college or for anything else, ever again.” 

Dante and I meet each other’s eyes. “She’s at Gina’s now?” I demand.

Sara nods without looking at either of us.

I step past her on the stoop, rushing to get back inside. I explain the situation to Freddy and he sighs. “Sounds bad,” he says. “You guys had better go find your friend. We’ll hold it down here.”

“Are you sure?” Dante asks, walking up behind me, Sara trailing miserably behind him. 

“Yeah. It’s slow tonight. Tone and I can hold it down.” He looks at Sara. Her mascara is streaked down her cheeks. “Go on in the office, Sara, and take a breather.”

Dante throws his arms around Freddy’s neck, murmuring a thank you. Freddy is so surprised he doesn’t move for a minute. Then he wraps his arms around Dante and hugs him back. 

“Y’all go find your friend,” he says. 

I start to head out, but Dante hesitates. He turns to Sara. 

“Are you going to be all right?” he asks her, taking both her hands. He’s a better person than me. I care about Sara, too, but right now I’m so mad at her I can’t seem to tap into it. 

I tell him as much in the truck. 

“She’s hurting too, Ari,” he responds quietly.

“Breaking up with Susie was a shit move,” I growl. He nods.

“Yeah. It was. But put yourself in her shoes for a minute. Think about if we had hooked up and our parents hadn’t known. Imagine if we got caught in bed and then your parents made you feel like the scum of the earth.”

I shake my head. “I still wouldn’t have broken up with you,” I insist, but the confidence is gone from my voice. He’s struck a nerve, because that kind of response--that kind of  _ rejection _ \--is exactly what I had been afraid of. I sigh. “But that never would have happened, because I was too chickenshit to even admit I was into you until they told me it was okay.” Suddenly, my anger at Sara has me feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. 

His arms are already around me as we drive. He tightens them. “It’s okay. We all have to deal with this shit in our own way.”

“It’s not shit. It’s just part of who we  _ are. _ And it’s so fucked that it’s something that has to be  _ dealt with _ at all,” I hiss, slamming my hand down on the steering wheel. “How can anybody think it’s  _ wrong?” _

Dante has no answer to that.

When we get to Gina’s and ring the bell, a stout, middle-aged woman whose black hair is streaked with silver answers the door. The look on her face is so intimidating, I almost take a step back. 

“Hello, ma’am. Is Gina home?” I ask. The woman starts ranting in a mixture of Spanish and heavily accented English, saying that Gina is a wicked girl with wicked friends, and that we need to go away. I can feel Dante shaking beside me. I’m shaking, too. I don’t think either of us are shaking from fear. At least, not fear of this woman and her tirade.

Has everyone lost their goddamn mind today?

“Mama!” Gina screams, hurrying into the foyer. Her mother turns on her, hurling insults and insisting Gina has broken her heart. Gina looks at us, her face streaked with tears. “Susie’s parents called my mom, too. Susie had to leave,” she yells to us over the din her mother is making. “You’ve gotta find her.”

“How long ago?” I shout over her mother, who is now trying to physically push me off her porch. I engage my muscles and she may as well be shoving against a wall. 

“Ten minutes or so,” Gina yells miserably. 

I turn away from her mother so quickly, she nearly stumbles down the steps herself. Dante and I run back to the truck. I circle the block, slowly, looking for any sign of Susie. 

“Should we split up?” Dante asks, sounding like he’d rather do anything but. I don’t want to, either, but I feel like it might be the best idea. I start to pull over to let him out and he cries, “There!”

Susie is sitting on a low brick wall next to the Waffle House that’s a few blocks away, silhouetted against the late afternoon sky. She’s a wreck. She doesn’t have any shoes on (my anger at Sara swells again; at least she was able to grab her shoes) and she’s curled into a ball, her curly hair frizzing out like a halo. When I pull my truck into the parking lot, she looks up gratefully. Apparently she can recognize the sound of it, too. 

Dante and I get out and wrap our arms around her without a word. She cries in such a heart-wrenching way I think I might start crying, too, but then the manager comes out asking whether we’re going to come in and eat or just loiter in his parking lot all day. I glare at him and he kind of withers and goes back inside, grumbling. 

Being intimidating has its perks. 

“Come on,” Dante says gently, pulling Susie by the hand. She starts to follow but as soon as her feet touch the hot asphalt, she squeaks miserably and jumps back. Without hesitation I scoop her up and carry her to the truck. 

We let her ride between us on the way to my house. 

As luck would have it, Mrs. Quintana is there, hanging out with my mom. Susie seems terrified to encounter yet more parents--who can blame her?--but I lean over and whisper in her ear. 

“You’re safe here,” I say. She looks up at me with red-rimmed, exhausted eyes and nods.

As soon as they get a look at the three of us, my mom flies into action. I really love that about her. She whips up a snack and a glass of ice water in no time, and Mrs. Quintana ushers us to the living room, absentmindedly handing a fussing Joaquin to me. As soon as I have him in my arms, he quiets.

I have to admit, it causes me intense pride that he seems to like me better than anyone. 

Our moms sit down on either side of Susie on the couch. My mom pushes the carrot sticks and crackers at her until she takes a couple of bites and drains the glass of water. Dante hurries back to the kitchen to get her more, and when he returns, he sits down in the armchair. I stand, rocking Joaquin gently from side to side. 

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Quintana finally asks. Susie opens her mouth to speak and dissolves into tears again.

“Do you want me to tell them?” Dante asks, and she nods vigorously. 

So he tells them what we know. They exchange a look, faces full of anger and sadness. Then my mom puts an arm around her.

“You can stay here for now, Susie. I’m sure in a day or two your parents will miss you so much, they’ll be ready for you to come back home.”

Susie shakes her head. “No, they won’t,” she whispers. My mom and Mrs. Quintana share another look. Their judgment of Susie’s parents is written all over their faces. I’ve never seen either of them look disgusted about other people before, and it’s a bit jarring.

After dinner, my mom insists that Susie take a shower and go to bed. I loan her one of my t-shirts and a pair of running shorts. She’s swimming in the t-shirt. Luckily the shorts have a draw-string that she seems to have cinched as tight as it would go.

“Come here, Susie,” Dante says. We’re both sitting on my bed. Susie limps over and crawls up with us.

“Your feet okay?” I ask her. She shrugs.

“I walked a long way barefoot. And I’m not used to being barefoot. And the pavement was  _ hot.” _

“Yet another reason shoes are evil,” Dante says. “They make us dependent on them.” I roll my eyes. Susie laughs weakly. 

“You going to be okay?” Dante asks. She shrugs again. 

“Our dads will be back soon, with some of your stuff,” I remind her. Sam had come for dinner (that was already the plan, apparently), and then our dads had driven over to Susie’s to fetch some clothes and things for her. I had no doubt they’d be having a very serious conversation with her parents while they were at it. 

“What if they can’t convince my parents to give it to him?” she asks, looking utterly exhausted. I feel so sorry for her, I reach out and pull her against me. Wrap her up in my arms as tightly as I can. One thing Dante has taught me is the power of affection.

She accepts my embrace, collapsing against me.

“Oh, they’ll get your stuff,” I say. “Dante comes by his charm honestly.”

Dante nods and grins. “And Ari comes by his dark, mysterious intensity honestly. They’ll make a team.” 

Susie laughs into my chest. “I don’t know about all that,” she says. “Your dad seems much nicer than you, Ari.”

Considering the fact that I’ve got her cocooned in my arms, she’s clearly teasing me. As weak of an effort as it is, I’m glad for it.

“Thank you guys,” she whispers, her voice breaking. 

“You’ll get through this, Dante says, reaching out and squeezing her arm. She pulls away from him and nods. 

“If you say so,” she says. Then she goes off to bed in the guest room.

Dante and I are wide awake for a long time. We’re not talking, we’re just holding each other, stroking our fingers up and down each other’s arms. I’m thinking about how Jake might hurt Gina, and how Tone got ghosted, and how the girls got outed, and how Susie lost everything in the span of an hour. Finally I say, “God, I almost feel guilty about how lucky we are.”

“Don’t feel guilty,” Dante says quietly. He nuzzles closer to me, and I hold him tighter. “Just enjoy it.” After a few minutes, he whispers, “But yeah. I’m grateful, too.” 

  
  
  
  



	30. Susie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More about Susie's predicament, mostly, with a Jaime POV and a lot of A/D love (because that's what we're here for)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are gonna get real sick of me waxing poetic about how awesome [yucatanmafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatanmafia/pseuds/yucatanmafia) is but you just gotta get used to it because he's literally the best thing in the world. Also, he's my official beta now, so THANK YOU, A, for the (tear-inducing-in-a-good-way) beta-work and the discussion about next chapter and just...being you.

ARI

I leave Dante asleep in my bed, looking like a treasure all tangled up in my sheets, and go for a very long, hard run. I still can’t believe everything that happened yesterday. I can’t believe Susie is asleep in the guest room. I can’t believe that the world is so full of people who are so mean about something that has literally nothing to do with them. Something that has brought me more joy than I’ve ever known. 

When I get back, breathing hard and slick with sweat, I head into the kitchen for a glass of water. Susie is sitting at the table munching on bacon while my mom bustles around at the stove. I notice that she’s no longer wearing my t-shirt and running shorts; she’s wearing flannel pants with ice cream cones on them and a decidedly girl-cut tank-top. I make no comment; I just offer a generic, “Morning” to them both. My mom flashes me a smile, but Susie stares at me unabashedly. 

“Wow. You get really sweaty when you run,” she says, wrinkling her nose. I narrow my eyes at her.

“Well your hair’s a mess in the morning,” I retort, and then she and I both start laughing. She has dark circles under red-rimmed eyes, but she seems a little more herself today, thank God.

I go on down in the basement and lift weights because she’s right, I’m super sweaty. May as well get sweatier before I take my shower. I feel a twinge of guilt because Dante likes to watch me lift, but he’ll have a million more chances. 

When I come back upstairs, my mom has a whole breakfast on the table, complete with a freshly cut fruit salad. Dante is sitting cross-legged in a chair across the table from Susie, shoveling food into his mouth, and my dad is looking at the paper with his customary cup of coffee. 

“Morning, Dad. Morning, love,” I kiss Dante’s head and he pauses in his eating to beam at me and wrap one arm around my waist, pulling me against him so that the side of his face is pressed into my belly. 

“Ewwww, Dante,” Susie squeals. “He’s so sweaty!” 

“I know,” Dante says into my shirt. “I love it.” My parents laugh at Susie’s shudder. 

After I shower and join them all at the table, my dad puts down his paper. “What are you guys getting into today?” he asks. 

“I’m going to go put on my own clothes,” Susie says, smiling at him gratefully before disappearing upstairs. 

“I take it you got her stuff, then,” I say to my dad, carefully rolling up my tortilla stuffed with bacon, eggs, cheese, and peppers. 

“I did,” he says simply. 

“So…how did it go?” Dante asks, as though it is such an obvious question he shouldn’t have to be asking it. I grin at him, because I agree with the implication. 

My dad grins at him, too. Just a little half-grin that is full of amusement and affection. Sometimes he looks at me like that, too. It’s a look I’ve only begun to grow accustomed to seeing on his face. 

“It was...interesting,” he says carefully, and I’m reminded of how careful he is with words, even now. How careful he is with people and with words is truly a rare and beautiful thing. “I don’t think they are going to want Susie back home any time soon.”

I shake my head in disgust. Dante says, “But what about  _ love?” _ in such a confused, pure voice, I have to stop eating and hug him. My mom and dad exchange looks. 

“I guess it looks different for different people,” my mom says in her most diplomatic tone, but I can tell that she’s holding back her own anger.

“We’re just so grateful for you guys,” Dante says. Our arms are still around each other, our heads pressed together. 

“So grateful,” I echo. My parents smile at us. They both seem to be at a loss for how to respond. 

JAIME

When Sam and I arrived at the Byrds’ house, all was quiet. Eerily quiet. Sam and I exchanged a look as he knocked on the door. It was opened by a man who looked closer to my age than Sam’s. His thinning hair was worn in a comb-over, and he had on a buttondown, a sweater vest, and slacks. He eyed us suspiciously.

“Mr. Byrd?” Sam asked, extending a hand. Mr. Byrd took his hand, seemingly reluctantly, but you can’t really  _ not _ take Sam’s hand when he offers it. “Sam Quintana. This is my friend, Santiago Mendoza.” I extended my hand and shook, too. 

“Pat Byrd,” Susie’s father grunted. “How can I help you?”

“Well, Mr. Byrd, our sons are friends with your daughter. They brought her to Mr. Mendoza’s house tonight with nothing but the clothes on her back. Not even any shoes.” I had to hand it to Sam. His voice was warm. Genuine. He sounded like he was commiserating with Mr. Byrd, rather than condemning him, and I honestly thought it was based in hope and not manipulation. He really is a beautiful soul. “She seemed to think that she was no longer welcome here. Though I’m sure she’s mistaken…” Sam’s voice trailed off and we both just stood there, looking at Mr. Byrd. He seemed unsure whether he’d prefer to look at Sam or at me--his eyes kept darting back and forth. 

Finally he leaned out the door and glanced around behind us, as though making sure no neighbors had heard. Then he ushered us hastily in.

“The fact is,” he began, sounding like he’d rather be doing anything other than what he was doing, “my wife discovered her today in a rather...unacceptable situation. Now, I’m sorry if that’s bad news to you. I’m sure your sons are upstanding boys, and I hate to imagine how my daughter...well, my former daughter...might have pulled them down. But I assure you, she left us no choice.” His voice cracked, so quietly it was barely noticeable, and he cleared his throat and took a handkerchief out to wipe his face. It looked crumpled, like he’d been using it all day. “My wife was distraught. She’s been in the bedroom all afternoon with a migraine.” He glanced down the hall nervously.

“Well,” Sam said, side-eyeing me. We hadn’t discussed how to handle this little excursion because we had had no idea what to expect. “That’s unfortunate. Being a father myself, I find it hard to imagine what a child could possibly do to warrant being disowned.” 

Mr. Byrd was visibly sweating. He wiped his face with the handkerchief again. Then he cleared his throat again. “Yes, well. You’ll have to trust me when I say, her behavior warranted it. Now, how can I help you?”

Sam sighed. “We’re here to get some clothes for her, if you truly intend for her not to return home any time soon.”

Mr. Byrd’s eyes grew round. “You’re letting her stay with you?” he asked, a little incredulous and…if I wasn’t mistaken...relieved. 

“My wife and I are. For the time being, at least,” I say, speaking for the first time. “We’re not in the business of turning teenagers out on the street.” 

“Oh, well...that is…” Mr. Byrd was clearly not expecting this turn of events. “I’m not sure how I feel about my daughter sleeping in a house with a boy. Not that I doubt that your son is a wonderful young man…”

“My son has no interest in molesting your daughter,” I said flatly, and I held his gaze without blinking. “And besides, I thought she was no longer  _ your daughter.” _ As I watched him turn a deep shade of scarlet, my mind flashed back to the camping trip. Susie had assured Lily and I that she was the “quintessential good girl” and that her parents trusted her. While it was obvious at the time that she wasn’t serious (even if I  _ had _ been born yesterday, Dante’s reaction alone was enough to give it away), I still felt a little disappointed--and guilty--that he most likely had  _ not _ known about the camping trip. Lily and I should have checked in with the girls’ parents directly.

Or not. If this guy was so willing to treat his daughter so poorly, it was probably best that we had left well enough alone. The kids had gotten home safe and sound, after all. 

Mr. Byrd is looking anywhere but at us, flustered. “Look,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially and glancing down the hall again. “If you knew what she did…”

“We know, Mr. Byrd,” Sam said, and now his voice was ice cold. I’d never heard him sound that way. “There are worse things in the world than girls who like to kiss other girls. Now, would you please either gather some clothes for Susie, or direct us to her room so that we can do so?”

In the end, he disappeared into her bedroom and left us standing awkwardly in the foyer. After what seemed like hours but was probably no longer than 10 minutes, he emerged with a bulging duffel bag. His eyes were red. He held it out, and I took it, and for a moment it seemed he wasn’t going to say anything else. When we were halfway out the door, though, he stopped us. 

“Take care of my girl,” he said, and in that moment he sounded like a broken man.

I looked away, but I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Sam stared at him, seeming neither compassionate nor kind. Just...staring. Letting his eyes be the pool Mr. Byrd had to swim around to try to find an edge to grasp. Then Sam turned away without a word and headed back to my car. 

I hesitated for only a moment, and only because of how overcome I was. I get that way often, and even after all these years, I still haven’t quite figured out what to do with it. Ari has become a sort of model for me. He seems to have embraced his feelings with a fervor I can only long for.

_ I should tell him that _ , I thought.

“You should be ashamed,” I finally murmured, which didn’t begin to encompass everything I felt about the situation and the man standing before me. Then I turned away, too, and followed Sam.

ARI

“You want to go swimming later?” Dante asks. We’re in my room. Susie stayed in the guest room after going up, which I’m pretty glad about. It’s just now occurring to me that, as long as she’s staying here, she’s probably going to be hanging out with us a lot more than usual. I enjoy her company and care about her a lot, but I’m not sure I like that idea. I live for my time alone with Dante, even if we’re not doing anything other than lying around reading or talking or whatever. When I’m alone with him, I can be  _ myself _ more than any other time. Not that I’m not myself with other people, it’s just...I don’t know. There’s such a comfort in being alone with him. I feel so completely seen and accepted and it’s just...easy. And beautiful.

“Sure,” I say. 

“I guess we should invite Susie,” he says, and I look at him, a little surprised, because I’m pretty sure his mind is in the same place as mine. 

I sigh. “I guess we always have to, now.” He looks at me a little helplessly. I laugh. “I wouldn’t think  _ you’d _ mind,” I say. “Being Mr. Social and everything.”

“Are you kidding, Ari? Just because I like almost everybody doesn’t mean I want them around me all the time.  _ You. _ You’re the only one I want around all the time. That’s it.”

I gaze at him, a bit in awe. For the millionth time, I wonder how this incredible guy can love me so much. 

SUSIE

When Mrs. Mendoza brought up the bag of clothes last night, I hadn’t been expecting it. I was half-asleep, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of this unfamiliar house and trying to decide whether I was more upset over being dumped by my girlfriend or dumped by my family. 

That’s the thing.  _ Obviously _ it hurt worse to be dumped by my family, but that was where I was also both glad and resentful that Sara dumped me, too. I was glad because it gave me something else to focus on, something manageable, because as much as I liked her (and maybe sorta thought I was falling in love with her, and she with me), I could handle that rejection a lot more than I could handle the memories that kept surfacing of the way my mother looked at me with eyes full of disgust. 

But I was also resentful, because I needed to be dealing with what happened with my mom and dad, and every time I tried to make myself think about it, I suddenly remember Sara telling me she hadn’t signed up for drama. 

Well, I didn’t either, baby, I thought. 

I resented that the most, I think. That  _ that’s _ what she landed on. “I didn’t sign up for drama.” As if I was out here liking girls because I  _ wanted _ drama. As if I just couldn’t wait to wreck my entire life for shits and giggles. 

I knew she hadn’t meant it that way, but it was...demeaning. And it made it crystal clear that we weren’t on the same page with anything that mattered. And that, in itself, was a tragedy, and it wasn’t even the biggest tragedy of the day. 

Anyway, Mrs. Mendoza put the duffel on the bed beside me. I recognized it. It was an old one, from my childhood, from before when my parents dropped some money on nice luggage. The bedside lamp was still on, and I did my best to smile up at her.

“I’m so sorry, Susie,” she had said in this really quiet voice that made me believe her. And that did it--I dissolved into tears again. I had thought I was all cried out, but apparently not. The next thing I knew, she was pulling me into the warmest embrace I had felt for a long, long time. And she just held me, and I cried, and I pretended for a minute that she was my mom, and that my world was different, and that it hadn’t just come crashing down around me. 

When she left, I went through the bag with exhausted, shaking hands. I wasn’t sure who had packed it until I went through it. My dad had put in everything I could possibly need--not just t-shirts and socks and undies, but a swimsuit. My diary.  _ My diary! _ My favorite PJ’s - ice-cream cone flannel pants that I’d had since I was 14, and a cotton tank top that was so worn-in it felt like silk. And Mr. Rumbles, my stuffed cat that I’d had since I was three, whose stitching was coming out, whose ears were worn down to nubs from how many times I’d rubbed them when I’d cry.

I never knew I could cry the way I’d cried today. 

When my mom had told me they wouldn’t be paying for college, wouldn’t be paying for anything; when she’d told me that what I had done was unforgivable, my dad had just stood there. Like he always did. Like he was nothing more than her silent witness. That’s what he was, what he had always been. And I hated him for it, but right then, going through that bag of all my favorite things, I loved him, too. 

I almost went back to Ari’s room to see if the guys were still up. I didn’t feel like I could handle this on my own, this onslaught of pain. But I stayed there. I love them, and they’re my friends--clearly, even better friends than I had realized--but I didn’t feel like I should put more on them than I already had. 

I just put on my favorite PJs and curled up with Mr. Rumbles and eventually, after what seemed like forever, sleep had mercy on me.

DANTE

“What’s up?” Ari asks in my ear. “You’re upset.”

We’re at the pool. Gina met us here, and she and Susie are horsing around in the water, splashing each other and practicing handstands and talking in quiet voices. They’re both wearing sunglasses, so it’s clear they’re here to hang out, not swim. 

“Nothing,” I say, then immediately follow that up with, “I’m just so mad at Susie’s parents. I mean, I was scared to tell my parents because I thought it’d disappoint them, but I never thought for a second that they’d  _ disown _ me. What the actual fuck?” 

“I was afraid my parents would disown  _ me,” _ Ari says quietly, and a weird feeling settles in my gut. Sometimes it’s easy to forget where we came from. The people we were  _ before. _

Quite suddenly, I think I might cry. Normally I let myself cry when I need to, but this does not seem like the time or place. I bite my bottom lip and take Ari’s hand. He squeezes mine and knocks his knee against my own. We’re on the side of the pool, our feet in the water. They look magnified. I try to focus on that to keep from crying. 

“Hey, dreamboy,” he says in a husky voice. I look up at him, blinking tears out of my lashes. He holds my gaze and slowly, intentionally lifts my hand to his lips. Holds it there, warm and safe. More tears threaten to flood me. “We’re okay,” he whispers. “She will be, too.”

I look at him, re-memorize every detail of his face. His thick, dark brows. His cheekbones. The shape of his lips. I look into his eyes, such a deep brown they’re nearly black, and smile. 

“We’re lucky.”

“I know.”

“Hey guys!” Gina yells from a few feet away, splashing water in our direction. It doesn’t quite reach us. “Quit eye-fucking and get in the pool, already!” 

I raise my eyebrows to her and feel Ari chuckling beside me. 

“Just because we’re looking in each other’s eyes doesn’t mean we’re eye-fucking, Gina,” Ari deadpans, and she laughs. 

“Um, I beg to differ. You may  _ think _ you turn that shit off in public, but you wear it like a neon sign.” 

That makes me laugh - both her phrasing, and the likelihood of it being true. I doubt the connections between Ari and me - all of them - are anything less than obvious. I mean, even in the most emotional moment, there is some part of me that’s semi-turned on just by looking at him. To our credit, I think we both try to rein that aspect in, though it’s possible we’re not as good at it as we think.

“Coming!” I call, slipping off the side of the pool and into the water. Ari grabs the beach ball we brought and tosses it to Susie, who catches it and squeals in typical Susie fashion. She’s doing a really good job of trying to be okay, but I can feel how tremulous the act is.

We toss the ball around, and splash each other, and make fun of the lifeguards. Gina thinks they’re hot, which makes Susie wrinkle her nose in confusion and Ari and me groan in despair. 

“Why don’t you go strike up a conversation, G?” Ari asks her, throwing the ball right at her face. “See if they mention climbing you like a tree.”

“Ewww,” she says, throwing the ball back to him just as aggressively. 

“Right?” Ari laughs.

“How are things with Jake?” I ask, once I’m done laughing. Her face brightens. 

“Good! He’s cool. Thanks for introducing us.” 

Ari and I exchange a glance which is meant to be covert, but apparently isn’t, because Gina immediately narrows her eyes and says, “What do you know?”

How are we so bad at this? He did tell me once that my face was a book for the world to read, but I didn’t think that was true. I just thought he didn’t realize how well he knew me compared to other people.

But now Gina is making me re-evaluate my whole perspective. “What?” she demands. “Did he say something?” 

“Has he, um...” Ari doesn’t seem to know how to continue. 

“Has he mentioned what’s going to happen when you guys go to college?” I supply, and I don’t miss Ari’s grateful glance in my direction. 

“Oh, that,” Gina sighs, and she puts her head back in the water, takes a breath, and starts to float. She doesn’t say another word. 

I look at Ari, and he looks at me, and we both look at Susie, who meets our eyes and shrugs helplessly.

We eventually clamber out of the pool and go get hot dogs and bags of Cheetos from the snack stand and sit around in the late-afternoon sunlight, eating. I keep up a steady banter with Gina about how books can never live up to their movie counterparts, with which she fiercely disagrees. Ari is sitting behind me on the lounge chair, his legs on either side of me, his skin warm from the sunshine, and I really like that we’re not giving a damn about being out at the pool anymore. I lean against him as he quietly eats his food and looks like he’s not interested in anything happening around him, though he clearly is because he keeps running one fingertip up and down my thigh.

Susie is sitting beside Gina on another lounge chair as if it’s a bench, both of them with their feet on a towel. They’re sharing a Diet Coke and a bag of chips and a hot dog. Sharing everything. It makes me wish, for a moment, that Gina liked girls, because they really do seem in sync. But that’s not fair. We are who we are.

No one has mentioned the utter shitshow that is Susie’s life right now. I think we’re all on the same page there, trying to pretend that everything is okay so that she can have an afternoon that feels normal. But I’m not sure if that’s what she needs. I’m not convinced enough that she needs something different, though, so I’m doing my part to keep it all going. 

Why do simple things have to be so complicated? 

  
  


  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lua by Bright Eyes: [Why do simple things have to be so complicated?](https://youtu.be/TSBs-hiapo4) This is the Theme Song For My Life (A, we once discussed That One Song and this is the one I mentioned)...and it fits here so fucking well...because WHY do simple things have to hurt so much? "And I'm not sure what the trouble was that started all of this...the reasons all have run away, but the feeling never did" (By the way it's not exactly a song, it's mostly just a very metaphoric poem with an acoustic guitar behind it)


	31. good news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make an important decision, Susie gets a surprise, and Sara has a surprise of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [yucatanmafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatanmafia/pseuds/yucatanmafia) for the beta-work. All the love!

DANTE

I’m so blissed out, I can barely move.

We’re in the back of Ari’s truck, alone for once. This summer has been fun so far except for the lack of alone time Ari and I get. Susie’s been at Ari’s for almost two weeks now, so whenever we sleep there, she’s there. Which is fine--it’s good, really; we have loads of fun with her, and Gina’s taken to staying over until her curfew a lot of nights, and the girls always pile into Ari’s room and somehow there’s always snacks, so it feels like a slumber party. And several times we’ve driven out to the desert for a bonfire. Jake usually comes when we do that. And then on other nights there’s work, and when we sleep over at my house, there’s no Susie but there’s Joaquin, who has recently learned to sit by himself, and can usually be found between us on the floor of my bedroom, sitting up proudly on his little blanket, squealing as we roll a ball at him or play peek-a-boo or show him a board book. We can’t take our eyes off of him because sometimes he randomly topples over.

And it’s all good. It’s all--well, wonderful, really; we’re so blessed to have so many people that we love. But it’s also...frustrating, because until now, Ari and I hadn’t had a proper date since our anniversary.

Last night in bed he’d been curled around me, my back pressed into him, and he propped himself up on one elbow and whispered into my ear. “I need to get you alone.”

“We’re alone now, Ari,” I’d laughed, rolling over onto my back so I could look up into his face. He was smiling down at me, his face illuminated by the moonlight spilling into the window. 

“I know,” he’d admitted. “But I want to be alone-alone. Not keeping it down in a house full of people…”

“I feel called out,” I’d interrupted, because he was always telling me to keep it down when we had sex. At least he had abandoned his no-sex-when-parents-are-home rule. I’d hated that rule. 

He’d laughed, and kissed my nose, and went on. “Not whispering at a bonfire with a bunch of friends, or sneaking kisses in the walk-in cooler at work.” I’d grinned when he said that, because to be honest, when I’d gone in the back for a side of olives a couple of days earlier and he’d grabbed me by the arm and hauled me into the cooler so he could kiss me senseless, well...that had been a fun time. “I want to take you on a date and be alone-alone. Just for a little while.” 

I’d gazed up at him, at his eyes that looked black in the moonlight, at his lips that looked so soft. “Sounds good to me,” I’d whispered.

And now, here we are. We told everyone we were going on a date and that no, they couldn’t come, and because the everyone in question loves us, we got nothing but smirks or laughs or smiles. We discussed whether to go to dinner or a movie, but it was a half-hearted discussion. We both knew what we wanted, which was to drive out to our spot in the desert and look at the stars.

And we’re looking at the stars, now. We weren’t at first because we had to make up for way too many nights of being quiet while we were driving each other wild. And make up for it, we did. We actually ended up turning it into an unspoken game that could be called Who Can Make The Most Noise During Sex. 

I think I probably won.

But now we’re lying here, looking up at the stars, and I feel boneless and blissed out and just...so  _ good. _ We’re side by side in the back of the truck, looking at the constellations and holding hands. 

“You know what?” he asks after a while, breaking the drowsy silence. 

“Mmm?” I murmur. 

I hear him take a deep breath, which always means he’s about to say something important, and that perks me right up. I turn on my side and look at him just as he says, “I made a decision.”

I watch him and wait. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this kind of apprehension roll off of him, and it’s almost like his old M.O. of being nervous has kicked me back into my old M.O. of trying to give him the space he needs. He takes another deep breath and looks back at me.

“I want to get married now.”

I blink a couple of times. We’ve discussed this before. First we thought we’d get married as soon as we graduated, then we talked about it and decided there was no need to rush, and then when Jake asked us when the wedding would be, we’d said, “Whenever he wants” in unison. And I believe we both really, truly meant it. 

“Now, as in...now? Right now? I mean, I’m down, but I don’t know where we’ll find a minister at this hour--especially one that would marry gay teenagers--and our parents are gonna be annoyed that they didn’t have time to hire a band…” He starts laughing and after a second I can’t hold back my grin anymore.

“You’re a nut. I love you.”

“I love you, too. That’s why I’ll marry you right now, if that’s what you want.” 

He reaches over and kisses me. “Not right this second. But this summer. Let’s go with plan A.”

I study his eyes, trying to ferret out what he’s feeling. What’s motivated this change.

“Okay,” I say. He smiles. 

“Okay.”

“I want to, Ari. But...why? We won’t have long to plan it.” 

“Pssht. Our moms will be all over it. We won’t have to plan a thing.” 

That really made me laugh. He wasn’t wrong. 

“But really, love. Why the sudden…decision?”

He shrugged the shoulder he wasn’t lying on. “I don’t know. I know you like calling me your fiancé, and I like it, too. You can still call me that sometimes once we’re married, if you want. Just for fun.”

I roll my eyes and nudge him. “Don’t think I won’t,” I threaten playfully. “I’ll call you my fiancé, I’ll call you my boyfriend, I’ll call you my best friend. I’ll call you my lover and my baby and my whole world.  _ And _ I’ll call you my husband. It’ll just depend on the conversation.”

“Really want to fuck with the folks at uni, huh?”

We both laugh. 

“No, seriously, though. I want to call you my husband more than I want anything else. But you still haven’t told me why you decided this right now.”

He flops onto his back and gazes up at the stars. “I don’t really know why. Do I have to have a reason?”

I study his face for a moment. “I think you do, Ari,” I say quietly. He sighs, then rolls back onto his side to look me in the face again.

“I just love you, Dante. Every day, I don’t think I could possibly love you any more than I already do, and then the next day comes and somehow, I do. I love you more. Every single day.” He’s watching me as much as I’m watching him. Gauging my reaction. “And lately I’ve caught myself thinking, ‘God, I want to marry him.’ Over and over, that one thought. And then it just kind of hit me that I do this thing sometimes. Where I put off what I want. I’ve always done it. I think it’s because, for a long time, I didn’t think I deserved to have what I want.” He sighs, then smiles. “I think I should quit doing that.”

Once again, Aristotle Mendoza has blown me away by what can come out of his mouth. For a man who spent so much of his life not talking, he sure does know how to say things. 

I’m so overcome, I can’t answer for a moment. When I can finally speak, I say, “Do you have a date in mind?”

He grins. “I thought you could choose it. Since I, you know, chose the whole right-now part.” He looks a little sheepish. “You do still want it? I mean, it’s not rushing things? Because I know you said whenever I wanted, but if you’d rather wait…”

“Don’t be stupid, Ari. I just told you I’d marry you right now if we could find a minister at eleven o’clock on a Friday night, and I meant it.” He laughs, but I’m earnest. I lean over and kiss him. “I love you. I’ve wanted to marry you since...mmm...around the time we met. So, yeah. It’s not too soon for me.”

The way his eyes light up when I say that is a glorious thing. He rolls over on top of me and kisses me gently. “I love you, too,” he whispers. 

The next morning brings more good news. Ari and I are sitting at the breakfast table and Joaquin is in his high chair. His hair has bananas in it because my parents put some banana slices on his tray that he clearly decided were there to squish and wipe on himself. He keeps making faces at Ari, who’s making faces back. It’s kind of crazy sometimes, to see them together. I mean, Ari’s this buff badass guy who is all muscle, who has been in more fights than I care to know about, who loves his truck with all its chrome and looks like Che Guevara (especially now that he’s letting his facial hair grow), but when he gets around my baby brother he turns into this enormous goof. 

I can’t get enough of it.

So, yeah. We’re sitting there with Joaquin and my parents, who are taking turns between bites of their own breakfast to feed Joaquin spoonfuls of baby oatmeal as he paints himself with mashed banana, when the phone rings. I hop up to get it.

“Dante!” Mr. Mendoza’s voice is warm on the other end of the line. 

“Morning, Dad,” I say, because I’ve been wanting to try it out for a while. I think it takes him aback, but only for a second. Then he chuckles in this way that tells me I can call him “Dad” from now on.

My own dad is eyeing me, one eyebrow cocked, and I grin at him and shrug one shoulder. In my ear, Mr. Mendoza is asking for him. 

“It’s for you, original Dad,” I say, holding out the phone. My dad rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t know how you put up with him,” he says to Ari as he gets out of his seat. 

“Neither do I,” Ari shoots back, and I’m filled with glee because I remember the first time my dad said to Ari that he didn’t know how Ari put up with me, and how mortified Ari had been. How completely frozen. Oh, how times have changed.

We all sit quietly watching my dad talk to Mr. Mendoza. He mostly smiles and says, “Ah?” and, “Really?” and, “Unbelievable.” He seems truly delighted at whatever he’s hearing. When he sits back down, he smiles at us.

“Turns out,” he says, and he looks like he’s preening. “Whatever we said to Mr. Byrd got through. He’s told his wife that Susie’s coming home, and they’re going to accept her for who she is, or she--Mrs. Byrd, I mean--can move out.”

“What?!” I cry, leaping from my seat so fast that my chair falls over. Joaquin starts to cry. “Oh, sorry,  _ Sucio," _ I say quickly, hurrying over to pat him until he settles. It’s hard to find a place to pat that’s not slimy. “That’s just such great news!”

“It is,” my dad agrees. My mom is beaming, but Ari’s laughing, which is much more effective at cheering Joaquin up than my patting. Joaquin’s wails turn to little baby-laughs as he watches Ari. 

_ "Sucio _ is so fitting,” he says, and then we all laugh. 

“So when is she going home?” I ask.

“Today, apparently,” my dad replies. I look at Ari. We both jump up from the table and start collecting our breakfast dishes.

“I’ll get that,” my mom says. “You guys go.” She smiles at us, and we smile back and head upstairs to grab our shoes. 

When we get to Ari’s house, Gina’s there, helping Susie gather up her things. Ari and I sit on the bed while they pull clothes out of drawers and shove them in her duffel bag. 

“How are you feeling about going home?” I ask, which isn’t really necessary because she’s clearly delighted.

“A little nervous, because I don’t know how my mom’s going to react,” she says breathlessly, “but Dante, I can’t believe my dad did this! My mom has always run the show. He always just lets her have her own way. I can’t believe he finally stood up to her!”

“Because of  _ you, _ Suze. He did it for you,” Gina reminds her, and Susie beams. 

Right then, the doorbell rings. 

“That would be your dad,” Ari says, and without warning, she throws her arms around him. It takes him a beat to react, but then he hugs her back. 

“Thank you so much for coming to get me that day, and bringing me here,” she says to us both. She releases him and pulls me into a hug. I squeeze her. 

“I’m so proud of you, Susie,” I say into her frizzy hair. 

We follow her downstairs, where Mr. Byrd is standing in the foyer, talking to my dad. He keeps shaking his hand. 

“It’s just...I’d never been told to be ashamed of myself before, and...ah, there she is,” Mr. Byrd says, and he opens his arms and Susie jumps past the last couple of steps to fall into them, her overstuffed bag banging against her hip. 

“You ready, honey?” he asks her, and she bites her lip and nods. He looks at Dante and me. “Thank you, boys,” he says, and he keeps one arm around Susie and reaches out with his other to shake our hands. “You’re good friends to Susie. I can never thank you enough for being there for her when...well, when I wasn’t.”

“We’ll always be there for our friends,” Ari says simply, and Mr. Byrd bows his head a little. 

Susie thanks Ari’s parents over and over, and then we all watch them head down the walk to her dad’s car. He keeps his arm around her as he explains that her mom has agreed to everything, though Susie should be prepared, she’s not happy about it. “We’ll get through this, though,” he says to her. 

I close the door. Gina grins at us. “Wow,” she says.

“Yeah,” I agree. 

Work that night holds yet another surprise, in the form of Sara. Sara and I have been carefully avoiding talking about Susie over the past couple of weeks. I did ask her, once, how things were at home, and she’d said they were okay, that it seemed like her parents had decided to pretend it never happened and she was just rolling with that. And the day after everything went down, she’d asked if we had found Susie and what had happened, so I told her the story and told her that Susie was going to stay at Ari’s for a while. She had nodded and teared up and excused herself to go to the bathroom for about 10 minutes.

Otherwise, we’ve kept it pretty professional, mostly talking about work stuff. I’ve tried to be friendly, but it’s been hard to break through her obvious discomfort. Ari only speaks to her if he needs to. He hasn’t been mad at her since that first day, but he’s also not about to go out of his way to make her feel any better. He’s big on loyalty, Ari is. (Lucky for me.)

But when Ari and I walk into the restaurant that night, I can tell something’s different with her. She looks slightly manic. 

“You good?” I ask her, once Ari has tied on his apron and headed into the back. 

“Do you think Susie would take me back?” is how she responds. I inhale deeply and look at her.

“Where is this coming from? Does it have to do with Susie going home today?”

“Susie went home today?” I watch emotions flit across her face: panic, delight, worry. “Her parents took her back?”

I nod slowly, deciding not to give up too many details. It’s Susie’s business. 

“I had no idea. But that’s great. I mean, I hope it’s great.” She thinks a minute. “What made them change their mind?”

I shrug. “I guess they missed her. And also, my dad and Ari’s dad had some kind of heart-to-heart with Mr. Byrd, which seems to have made an impression. It just...took him a minute.” 

I watch Sara pull on the long braid that’s slung over her shoulder. “That’s really amazing.” I nod again. She bites her lip. “Do you think they’d talk to my parents, too?”

“Why, Sara? Why this sudden change of heart?”

“It’s not a change of heart, Dante. I’ve been thinking this for days. Almost since  _ that _ day. I really fucked up. I panicked and I fucked up.”

“You miss her?”

“Terribly.” 

Right then a customer walks in, so I have to go do my job. When I come back to get their drink order, Sara is bouncing on her feet. Really wound up.

“Do you think she would ever forgive me? I know I don’t deserve it. I bailed on her at what was probably the worst moment of her life.”

I scoop ice into glasses and refrain from saying anything because she’s not wrong. 

“But do you think she’d forgive me?”

I sigh, and turn to look at her straight-on. “I don’t know, Sara. You really did hurt her.” Sara’s face falls. “But,” I say, and then I grin. “She seemed more than willing to forgive her parents. So, maybe?”

Sara’s eyes light up. “You think I should talk to her, then?”

“I can’t tell you that, Sara. That’s between you and her.” Sara nods, looking a little admonished. “You’re gonna tell your parents, though? If you two get back together?”

Sara bites her lip and nods. “Yes,” she says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself as much as me. “I’m not going to hurt Susie again, if she takes me back.”

“It’s been a big day,” I say to Ari as he starts up the truck. On top of everything else that happened, we ended up getting really busy at work, and I’m exhausted and a little sticky from spilling a Coke on myself (thank God it hit me and not the customer). I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Sara, so I launch into the story. He listens quietly, his jaw clenched as he drives. 

He’s quiet for a minute when I finish. Just as he’s pulling into the driveway, he says, “She’ll take her back.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” He looks over at me with a weird little half-smile. “She’s like you, Dante. Big heart. Understanding. Ready to forgive at the first sign of an apology.”

I know he’s talking about Daniel, which will always probably be a bit of a sore spot, so I roll my eyes and say nothing. He winks.

“Let’s get inside,” he says. “I’m looking forward to not having a girl in my bedroom while we’re getting ready for bed.”

I laugh. “Me too.” He starts to open his door but I reach over and grab his hand, pulling him back. I kiss him. I don’t know why; I just need to. He kisses me back. 

“C’mon, fiancé,” he whispers. “Take me to bed.” My stomach flutters and I think I might have the most googoo heart eyes of all time. Then he smirks. “But shower first. You’re sticky as hell,” he adds, and I bust out laughing.


	32. family and friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding planning, hang-outs with friends, Susie + Sara update, plenty of Joaquin and some Sylvia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratitude to [yucatanmafia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yucatanmafia/pseuds/yucatanmafia) for the beta-read, the Paris discussion, the help with wedding plans, and most of all for being a good friend ❤

DANTE

I was helping myself to an inordinate amount of enchiladas (my mom’s enchiladas are to die for) when I asked, “So, do you guys think Thursday is a crazy day to get married?” 

I was met with the stares of four parents and one fiancé. 

I mean, Ari knew I was going to ask them. We had decided on a date and needed to get the ball rolling, because that date was soon. But I guess my timing surprised him. 

My mom broke the silence. “Not at all. Any day is a good day for a wedding.”

My dad cleared his throat. “Did you guys have a certain Thursday in mind?”

I looked at Ari. He looked at me. He grinned.

“August 31st,” he said. I grinned back at him. 

“We were just thinking,” I said, “that it would be good to wait until he’s 18. Just on the off chance that gay marriage is ever legalized and former weddings are legitimized.” As I talked, Ari slipped his hand into mine under the table. I wove my fingers through his and squeezed. “It seems wise to make it as legit as we can right out of the gate. And we know it’s really soon, but we want to do it as soon as possible.”

“It doesn’t need to be big,” Ari chimes in, and all four parents laugh.

“At first we thought about the weekend after he turns 18, but we’re moving into our dorm that weekend,” I added. 

I noticed that Mr. Mendoza had slipped his arm around Mrs. Mendoza while we talked, and my mom and dad had started to hold hands right on top of the table.

“What about a honeymoon?” Ari’s mom asked. “If you’re going off to school the next day…”

“We’re going to honeymoon during Christmas break,” I said. 

“In Paris, if we can afford it,” Ari added. All four of our parents raised their eyebrows, and I exchanged a grin with him. 

This decision had not come lightly. When we had discussed it, lying in the bed of his truck, Ari had been quite unconcerned about where we went, which completely stressed me out.

“Wherever you want to go, Dante,” he’d said. 

“But where do  _ you _ want to go?”

He’d turned his head to look at me. “Somewhere with you. I’m truly open to anything, love.”

I’d pouted, just a little, because I wanted us to make this decision together. 

“Okay,” he’d conceded with a smirk. “Imagine walking down a street with me. Somewhere we’ve never been. We’re married, and we’re holding hands, and we’re giddy with how in love we are, and we stop off in a café to get something to eat. We decide to sit outside on the patio so we can see...the sights. And the people. Where are we?”

“Paris,” I’d said immediately. Because honestly? I’ve always wanted to go. And more than that, I’ve always wanted to go with someone I was in love with. I mean, it’s the City of Love, after all. It seems like the most romantic place in the world. And we could...we could see  _ The Raft of the Medusa _ in person.

“Paris, huh?” he had asked. I’d bitten my lip, suddenly feeling very selfish and a little insecure.

“No...no. You wouldn’t like it,” I’d said. 

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, it’s a big city in another country. It’s kind of...ridiculously romantic. And it’ll be expensive, and anyway you’d probably like to go somewhere more quiet. Like a cabin in the woods or something. And I want you to be happy…” My voice trailed off because he was laughing.

“You  _ do _ know me well,” he’d said. “But Paris seems pretty calm, to be honest. I mean, hey, I had a blast in New York City. And at the beach. In comparison, Paris is tame. Besides,” he’d added, propping himself up on one elbow and putting his other hand on my face to kind of hold it. His eyes were dancing, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. “Don’t you know by now that I’m ridiculously romantic?” 

I’d held his gaze, unable to speak for a minute. Because what he said was so true, and it had been the best surprise of my life. 

“Don’t tell anyone, though,” he’d added, and I busted out laughing. 

“Are you sure?” I’d asked. “I don’t want to be the one to pick the place. We should do it together.”

“I’m sure, Dante.”

“How can we afford it?”

“We both have savings, and we still have several more weeks to work before college starts. Let’s just be really frugal and save every penny. And I’m sure our parents will help us out if we need it.”

I’d still felt hesitant. Honestly, being in Paris with Ari seemed too good to be true. 

“We can go somewhere else,” I offered. “I mean, we could even still go to France, but not a big city. I’ve heard the south of France is really pretty…”

_ “Dante.” _ Ari’s had narrowed his eyes at me, and I’d laughed. 

“It’s a big decision, Ari!” I’d cried, and he’d bitten his bottom lip, looking more in love with me than ever, and devastatingly sexy. 

“Yes and no,” he’d said. 

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that we have the rest of our lives to go on honeymoons. Every trip we take will be one. Every night we spend together.” He’d shrugged. My heart had melted, and I’d pulled him down to me for a kiss. He’d kissed me back for quite a while. Slow, and deep, and...well, let’s just say that the way he kissed me proved his point about being ridiculously romantic. 

“But do you  _ want _ to go to Paris?” I’d asked, when he eventually pulled away.

“Oh my God!” He’d cried in exasperation, then rolled over onto me.  _ “Yes, _ Dante. Yes, I want to go to Paris. We’re going to Paris. For God’s sake, let’s go to Paris. Can we please go to Paris?” 

I’d laughed, then, and felt the weight of him on me, and threaded my hands in his hair and kissed him back. And it was decided. 

Our parents were still looking at us with a hint of alarm on their faces. “We’ll be home for Christmas. Don’t worry,” Ari assured them, and sure enough, that made them relax.

“You’re okay waiting that long after your wedding to go?” my mom asked. 

“Well, moving into a dorm room together the next day is going to feel like a honeymoon, really,” I said.

“Yeah it will.” Ari shot me a brilliant smile. I squeezed his hand.

“But that night, after the wedding, we’ll just go to the desert,” I added. “It’s what we’d do, anyway, even if we were going on our honeymoon right away.”

“The desert is kind of our spot,” Ari finished, and I put my head on his shoulder. 

Our parents were beaming at us. Ari’s mom had tears in her eyes, and so did my dad. 

“Sounds like you guys have it all planned out,” Mr. Mendoza said. I lifted my head enough to side-eye Ari. He was side-eyeing me. We both laughed.

“Well, mostly?” I said. “I mean, we know what we want to do after. But we may need some help planning the actual event…”

“We get that it’s short notice…” Ari added apologetically.

We didn’t need to say anything more. My mom and Mrs. Quintana had reached across the table to grasp each other’s hands, speaking in rapid Spanish, and it became very clear very quickly that Ari had been right. They’d been cooking up plans for months, just waiting for us to drop a date. 

“Well, that went well,” I say to Ari later. “Good call, by the way. About our moms planning everything.” He laughs. 

Through the rest of dinner, through dessert, and in the living room afterwards, we had learned all that they already had planned. They had narrowed the choices down to two bakeries (they’ll be doing the food prep themselves, but want to buy the wedding cake), and two venues: our backyard, or the Mendozas’. Plus, they already knew someone to officiate: a former student of my dad’s who was a priest-turned-novelist. He’d been in the MA program when my dad taught him, and they’d hit it off immediately. My dad had already contacted him to see if he was still able to perform marriages despite no longer being in the priesthood (yes; apparently a license to wed people is fairly easy to come by, even for non-priests, and he had always loved performing marriages so he’d taken steps to stay licensed), and if he’d be willing to marry two gay kids who were madly in love, despite his Catholic faith (also an immediate yes, because he believed God didn’t make mistakes). 

“This is really gonna happen,” Ari says.

“Of course it is,” I reply, and I guess I sound offended because Ari laughs again and reaches out an arm to pull me to him. 

“I just mean,” he murmures, circling his arms around me, “that sometimes I still can’t believe this isn’t too good to be true.”

I sigh like a schoolboy in love. Which I guess, technically, I am. 

The following evening we go to the desert with our friends. For all Jake’s talk of not catching feelings, he is clearly in a constant swoon over Gina. At one point I catch her eye and raise my eyebrows. She bites her plump lower lip and grins, looking like the cat that caught the canary.

Susie is happier than I’ve seen her in a while. She, Jake, and Gina rode in the back of the truck on the way out. As soon as Ari parks and we climb into the back with them, Ari asks her how things are going.

“Really good, actually,” she says. “My mom is still distant, but she’s being nice enough. And she’s always been a little distant so it doesn’t really feel that different. But my dad...that’s the real change. It’s like he’s a new man. I think he feels like he almost lost me and he’s trying to make up for it. He’s taken me out to dinner twice this week, just us two.”

My heart swells. “That’s amazing, Suze!” I cry. Gina wraps her arms around her and holds her for a moment, smiling ear to ear. 

“Oh, and guys,” Susie says over Gina’s shoulder. “I haven’t told you this yet, but Sara called me yesterday.” 

Ari and I exchange a glance. 

“How did that go?” I ask. 

Susie pulls out of Gina’s embrace and shrugs, blushing a little. “She wants to get back together. She says breaking up with me was the worst mistake she’s ever made. She was actually crying on the phone.”

“Did you take her back?” Ari asks, and I can hear how he’s trying to keep his voice even. 

Susie looks distressed. “Not yet?” She says it like it’s a question. “I  _ do _ want to be with her, but I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to trust her again.”

“Understandable,” Ari says. I stay silent. The truth is, the way Daniel turned into such an asshole after I forgave him shook me. I totally understood why he had run away, but then the way he kept talking shit about Ari blew my mind. Even when I told him to stop, he kept on. He didn’t care about what I said or what I wanted, and it started to occur to me that he might actually be more arrogant and unkind than I thought, that maybe the reason he left me alone with those guys—and didn’t even bother to come back and check on me or visit me in the hospital—had more to do with his own sense of self-importance than I’d initially wanted to admit. And that made me feel like maybe Ari had been right...maybe I  _ had _ forgiven him too easily. 

So, even though I have compassion for Sara, I also feel like Susie’s wariness is pretty smart. 

Jake has his arm slung around Gina’s shoulders now. “I think you should give her a chance,” he says, and next to me I feel Ari raise his eyebrows. (It’s funny how you can get to know someone so well that you can  _ feel _ them raise their eyebrows when they’re sitting next to you. Quite incredible, really.) Jake notices and quickly explains. “I just mean, look. I’m straight, so I’ll never have to deal with this shit and y’all can tell me to shut up if you want. But people are people, and she was freaking out. I mean, yeah, she royally fucked up. Not cool. But people do stupid stuff sometimes when they’re scared.” He shrugs. “I’m not saying you should hand her your heart blindly, but if she really does seem sorry, and you miss her, well.” He shrugs again. “It seems like you might be hurting  _ yourself _ if you don’t at least give her a shot. She may have really learned something from this. She may have changed. People can change.”

Gina’s been watching him talk, and now she puts her head on his shoulder, looking dreamy. For two people who decided not to fall for each other, they seem a bit doomed. 

Susie’s clearly thinking through it. “I hear that,” she finally says, nodding. 

The next night is one of those rare nights when I have to work, but Ari doesn’t. He makes me late because he won’t stop kissing me in the parking lot. Freddy must have seen the truck through the windows, because all of a sudden there is rapping on Ari’s window. We break apart and dissolve into laughter because Freddy’s standing there, his arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked. Ari cranks down his window.

“Hey, bossman,” he says, all smiles. Freddy rolls his eyes.

“You coming to work today, Dante, or are you just gonna make out with Ari for your entire shift?”

“Are you  _ actually _ offering me a choice, because…”

Freddy’s stern look dissolves into humor. “Oh my God. Come on, dude. See you tomorrow, Ari.”

Sara bombards me as soon as I come through the door. 

“Have you talked to Susie?” 

“Last night, yeah,” I reply as I clock in. 

“Did she mention me? I called her a couple days ago.”

“How did that go?” I’m avoiding answering her question if I can. It’s turning out to be terribly tricky, being friends with both parties in a breakup. Sara bites her bottom lip.

“She didn’t outright tell me ‘no,’” she says, “but she didn’t exactly say ‘yes,’ either. She said she needs time to think about it.”

“That seems fair, don’t you think?” I ask her. 

“Yeah, it is.” Sara sounds glum. “I guess I’m lucky she didn’t hang up on me. What did she say to you?”

I look her square in the face and decide it’s not betrayal to speak the truth. “She wants to be with you. But she doesn’t know if she can trust you, and that’s obviously kind of a big deal in a relationship.”

Sara swallows and looks at her feet. “Yeah,” she whispers. 

A couple of hours later, Ari comes bouncing into the restaurant. When I say bouncing, I mean it; he is literally bouncing because he’s holding Joaquin on his hip. Joaquin is a mess of giggles, Ari’s t-shirt bunched in his tiny fist for dear life. 

I nearly melt into the black and white tiles. My voice is the epitome of high-pitched squeak when I cry, “What are you guys doing here?” and then Ari looks like he’s about to melt, too. 

“Your dad’s teaching right now, you know, and your mom got an urgent call from one of her clients. She called to see if I could babysit so she could do an emergency session.  _ Dominito _ and I talked about it and decided we should come see our favorite guy.” 

I laugh, tears in my eyes. Joaquin is now squealing in delight and reaching for me, so I come out from behind the counter and take him.  _ “Dominito?” _ I ask, kissing his soft dark hair. 

“Because of the toppling over, you know. I tried to have him sit beside me while I tied my shoes and I had to catch him twice.” 

I stare at Ari with stars in my eyes, then ask Joaquin,  _ “Dominito, _ why do you always tip over?” He responds with a hearty “coo.” 

“Oh my God, look who’s here!” Sara shrieks. She just came up front (she’s been training in the back because we are woefully understaffed) and the sight of Joaquin seems to have magically erased her sad mood. Tone follows her, grinning at the baby. They’ve both met him, of course, when they’ve come by my house to pick Ari and me up for desert nights. Freddy materializes, too, and a couple of customers actually get up and come over to make nonsense sounds at him. Joaquin looks positively bewildered by all the attention, and then his lip starts to quiver.

“Ah-oh,” Ari says. He reaches out and I pass my brother back to him. “Enough is enough, huh,  _ Dominito?” _ he asks, rubbing Joaquin’s back soothingly. “Too many people around makes me want to cry, too.” This makes me laugh, and Ari winks at me. 

“We’ll head out. Looks like you guys might be about to get busy anyway,” he says, eyeing a family that just came in and is waiting to be seated. Then he does something that takes me by surprise: he leans over and kisses me, just a brief peck on the lips like married couples do when they’re saying hello or goodbye. It’s such a simple, unceremonious gesture, something people take for granted when they’re in a long-term relationship, but the fact that he does it right here, in front of everyone, makes me weak in the knees. Then he puts the icing on the cake by saying, “See you at ten. Love you.” A couple of the customers are flat-out staring at us now.

My heart is in my throat. “I love you, too,” I say. 

Then he prompts Joaquin to wave goodbye to me and they bounce back out the door. 

That visit, I think to myself, is going down in history as one of my favorite memories. 

The next night at work, Sara shows up beaming. 

“Let me guess,” Ari says, leaning against the beer fridge. We’re slow as hell, so he and Tone are hanging out in the front with us. Ari’s smirking. Sara giggles, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and positively glowing. 

“She called me this morning,” Sara admits. “We spent the day together.  _ At her house.  _ Her mom wouldn’t even look at us, but guys! Her dad was great. He actually gave me a hug and apologized and told me I was welcome any time.”

I hug her, and she hugs me back, tightly. Tone is shaking his head.

“Man. It’s fucked, what y’all have to go through just to date. You make my girl problems look lame.” He claps me on the shoulder and nods at Ari, then Sara. “I’m sorry for all y’all.”

I beam at him because he sure has come a long way from his  _ I guess gay guys can be normal people _ epiphany. 

“Don’t be sorry for us, dude,” Ari says. “We have way better sex than straight people ever could.”

I feel my mouth fall open a little, shocked all over again at his playful side. And also slightly turned on, because he is, after all, talking about  _ me. _ “Yeah, we do,” I agree, high-fiving him. Sara and Tone fall into each other, laughing. 

We sleep at Ari’s house that night, then wander over to my house the next day because I want to paint. We decide to walk, just because. When we get there, I exchange a puzzled look with Ari. “Isn’t that Sylvia’s car?”

“Yup. Weird.” As soon as we walk through the front door, Ari’s niece and nephews run up to us, screaming with excitement. It’s delightful, and we immediately sweep them up into hugs and kisses. Ari slings the youngest, Sofia, over his shoulder and carries her into the living room like a sack of potatoes. She’s giggling up a storm. 

“They’ve been hoping you guys would show up while we were here,” Sylvia says, smiling. She stands up and hugs Ari and me with one arm because she’s holding Joaquin. As soon as he sees Ari, Joaquin is reaching out his little arms for him, so Ari takes him from her. 

“What are you doing here?” Ari asks, smiling at Joaquin who is smiling back. She exchanges a look with my mom. 

“Well, you know how we needed to find a nanny for Joaquin once the semester begins and your dad is back to full-time teaching,” my mom says. Then she smiles.

“No way!” I cry, looking at Sylvia. “You’re going to take care of Joaquin?” I know she’s a stay-at-home mom, so it makes perfect sense. It floods me with happiness because it will be yet another link between our families. 

“Yep. He’s going to join my crew on weekdays. So we’ll be around a lot in the next few weeks so he can get to know us.”

“That’s incredible,” Ari says, and I can tell he’s feeling as happy as I am about the arrangement. “Are you all going to come over here, or take him to your place?”

“Probably some of both,” Sylvia says, exchanging a smile with my mom. “We’ll play it by ear every day.” 

My mom stands. “I’ll go get started on lunch,” she says, and when Sylvia jumps up to help her, Ari steps forward. 

“Nah, you take Joaquin. Have some bonding time. I’ll help in the kitchen.”

She flashes him a bright smile as she takes my brother back from him, and it’s beautiful because this is new to them, this mutual respect and warmth. She sees him as the man he is now. Not a kid. Not a pet. Not a mascot. Not anymore. 

Lunch is just a simple meal of sandwiches and chips that we decide to eat at the picnic table in the backyard so the kids can run around. Ari seems a little distracted, looking around the yard like he’s never seen it before. I catch his eye and lift my eyebrows in question. He gives me a little smile and leans over so he can whisper in my ear as Sylvia and my mom chat. 

“I think we should do it here.”

I know exactly what he’s talking about. Our moms had told us to decide whose backyard to have the wedding in. 

I’m totally on board, but I want to know what he’s thinking. “Why?” I ask. 

“For one thing, your mom’s rose bushes back there are really pretty.” He gestures to the roses that line the back fence. “But also, this backyard is where you realized you were in love with me, right? That night we slept out here after we looked through the telescope?”

I hold his gaze, a million emotions flooding me. He had asked me, many months ago, when I knew I loved him. The question had made me so happy, because it was a very confident thing to ask. Hearing him acknowledge my love again now, without hesitation, fills me with the same joy. This guy who thought he’d never be understood by anyone knows, for sure, how loved he is. It’s kind of a miracle, when you think about it. 

“That’s right,” I murmur. I can’t stop smiling, and neither can he. 

“What are you guys whispering about?” Sylvia asks, and I realize she and my mom have quit talking and are staring at us.

“We want to get married here,” I say, lacing my fingers through Ari’s. “We just decided.”

My mom beams at us.

“Sounds like a plan,” she says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI: The next chapter may take a while to come out because it's going to be a Very Important (and long) chapter. In the meantime, I'll keep posting pornfics for anyone who is interested.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [rareandbeautifulthing](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rareandbeautifulthing).


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